N.s.e.w. Lyrics
N.s.e.w. Lyrics |
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N.s.e.w. Lyricsby Disturbing Tha Peace Buy album CD: Golden Grain Just get on down (8x) [Chorus] North, North, South, South, East, East, West, West (4x) Shit, Got a nigga gone off a fifth of Fayo and apple juice Throw up a deuce, Keep my hat banged to the left and ain't scared to act a fool So what you gone do, you betta not speak unless spoken to cause I bust that shit'it Dump that Philly, I could back dro wit a lac wit a yak, gettin drunk off in it Through the Chi like North, North, South, South Niggas talk shit put that work in they mouth In the East, East, West, West, niggas bust back put a slug in ya chest Cause I'm hood, hood, gutter, gutter Shauna got juice like a muh'fucka Hood of the hustlas and bloodsuckas Back in the bricks wit that good [Chorus] Fep, in the spot, buyin yak wit my balla camp All them bitches holla'n bout is (Where them fuckin dollas at) Yeeah, I got them hos, I got them O's, I got Air phones for those hos And yeeah, I got white phones, got black phones, I got crack weed in the floor So get on the grind, Get on some lime,Get on mine, let ya mind take course Got dip in the ride, Switchin the tires, Whippin the fire 85 Chevy Sport See if you got 16's, I will make that pliz'ay And I'm dressed like a dope boy, throwin up them triz'eys East side, whole Masterfield rainbow Flight soles, kinda roll where them thangs blow Good wood, not wastin that payroll Five hos trapped, boys got rapers My size got air nigga rep that We ride, rock sells and I bet that Car is a gutless, pistol is a must bitch Let a nigga know that his head I will bust quick Some slum niggas know what I'm talkin bout Lil rob fillin hos in the parkin lot Gimme head while I'm bustin that two track It was trill, hit the fence, never looked back Big thug, hit clubs in the fifth book Dollar Boy, let em know how to rip folk If a bitch broke, gotta let her slide, though 2-0 represent East side ho [Chorus] Hell, I'm up in the club, 4 whippin up, just throwin up pitch forks to (what, what) Tupac, I'm a rider, hoppin out, Gangsta crip disciples (Yeeah!) Wilin on the side of the club and dressed in blood colors, waitin on a sign to (Yeeah!) Pull out the gats and attack on them boys that thought that (they thought it couldn't happen) They blastin and screamin, we ain't friends, ain't no need to pretend (Shawty!) Split the mens, for my homey that got killed last weekend His brains was left leakin while his body got cold Now it's y'all life that y'all owe Time to even the score, case closed Chorus (2x) (Scratching)
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