Lyrics to Songs

[2Pac]
I want money in large amounts, my garage full of cars that bounce,
movin’ my takes a major way, cause every dollar counts…
bustas is jealous and half these niggas is punks,
they runnin’ off at the mouth til I fill it up with my pump…
they jump, my automatic keep ‘em wiery,
while you frontin’ like you really bad ass, nigga you scary…
I been knowin’ you for years, we was high school peers in Jr. High,
I was ichin’ to kill while you was ready to die…
while you bull-shittin’, niggas was dyin’ andcatchin’ cases,
bustin’ my automatics at muthafuckas in foreign places…
leavin’ no trace, they see my face and then they buried,
them bitches die in a hurry, still I ride, I’m never worried…
Mr. Makaveli, tell me to ride and I’m a ride,
pick my enemies out the cry, and muthafuckas die…
it’s not the way I wanna live, my niggas this out it is,
homie got into a fight, last night they killed his kids…
[Chorus]
[Kahsion]
I stop and think, rollin’ a philly up, full of dank,
pourin’ it remainin’ of my remey mark down of sank…
thanks to get dressed, grab my strap incased I’m test,
Chronic and Stress, await the bitch to clean the mess…
wishin’ I was sober, fucked up with a hangover,
the homie just realeased, so the whole hood came over (Westside!!)…
so we rolled, blast, and piecin’ up on dime bags,
mackin’ in the livin’ room, shakin’ that ass…
talkin’ fast to hoes, we pros at what we do,
it’s on and poppin’ once we get this bitch fill of brew…
I think some shit my crack, so we strapped and on thick,
swervin’ niggas I see, who ain’t invited to this shit…
give a fuck, the life I live, that how it is,
fuck around be cryin’ missin’ ya kids…
my destiny in this muthafuckin’ game,
it’s easy to get rich, or die…
[Chorus]
[Daz Dillinger]
When they see Dat Nigga Daz, they say I’m dangerous,
in this strange world, we live, just don’t get a fuck…
I mean I stroke with the intentions, cuttin’ it up like I supposed to,
my job is to protect and robb and serve you…
who hold the genuis, be the luck, Death Row be just breathin’,
he just gotta get served til none is left breathin’…
what I’m achievin’, smokin’ weed and fuckin’ hoes,
ain’t goin’ nowhere, no man is gonna strive, be on a stroll…
I gotta make it happen everyday and all day,
I gotta make my hustle and come back with big pay…
put up the spot late, creatin’ workers when I Touch Down,
who got my back when they put the attack down…
so I lay out cold, pertified, terrified, barely alive,
ome again with niggas start to ride…
with the Outlawz and Pounders, blast,
I’m clownin’ on three, nigga you my muthafuckin’ enemy…
[Chorus]
[Kurupt]
Tell a dome, where it’s on, from sellin’ dope, coke, to crack,
Young Gotti in it to party from the back…
instant pay…
I got’s to do it my way,
this go and swrive on the highway cause the spots on from Monday to Friday,
nigga try me…
I like the Intaca and Ty Weed, define me,
Young Gotti, when I be high as the sky be…
murder, homiside, be ready to rupture,
makin’ moves to touch ya, disassemble ya whole structure…
I make money, cause that’s all I know how to make,
that’s all I learned when I was young, no hesitation or mistake…
I see a pot (pot), filled with nothing but rocks and knots,
midnight complextion glocks to shake spots…
do my people, so they already assume I live illegal,
but they assume to soon…
I got a tree for every bitch on the street,
I role with beat, I got a problem, I got a fixation for heat…

Posted on November 30th, 1999 by Soundtrack
Filed under: Lyrics | No Comments »