BLACK MOON - I GOT CHA OPIN (REMIX) LYRICS
Writer(s): HUDMAN, SMEAD / JOHNSON, AUSTIN / DEWGARDE, EWART / WALT, MR. / BLAKE, KAMAL
Artist: Black Moon Lyrics
Popularity: 18 users have visited this page this week.
Date: Added(Last modified) at 6:54 am October 07, 2003.
( *DJ Evil Dee cuts up* ) (Don't front) [ VERSE 1: Buckshot Shorty ] When I get bent I must represent, no question Get up a dime spot and then I'm off to the dread section Roots hit me off lovely Comin out the spot I had to duck because a ***** tried to buck me I'm easin on the Glock like, "What up, hop" Buck's pullin out on cops cause I want free Glocks What the ****, bring your *****-*** type brigade Hittin them all, hand guns and hand grenades ( ? ) man that's wanted for murder Got your block locked down, so don't come any further In my clip is a .22 dumb-dumb Oh yeah, I seen your moms, I hit her off with a jum Know what I'm sayin? Fret it or forget it ( ? ) fly so I'ma still get paid, I don't sweat it I'm every MC's nightmare manifestin A little shorty pushin the fact that I'm best in This **** called hip-hop, raise the throne Kid, don't front, I got you open in your dome [ VERSE 2: Buckshot Shorty ] Rest in peace to my *****s in the East And all the real *****s that was shot by beast Around the way all we do is spark mad ism Ladies be like, "Yo, he's Buckshot right there, that is him" But let's get with the cipher, kid, pass the eight So I can wet my lungs and blow smoke in your face Word to Jah, *****s can't touch me, kid Cause I'm too nice to do bids or ever hit skid Fronts in the bottom of my teeth like whatever **** On the real, gettin played, what, I never did Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real *****s The field *****s get the mutha****in ill triggers Word to Herb, lick shot with my verb And keep my hand on my grip when I play the curb I never got caught by a undercover DT ( ? ) can't see me You grab mics from the ones I left broken Kid, don't front, you know I got you open [ VERSE 3: Buckshot Shorty ] Late at night I catch a buzz, then I write The type of ill **** to make the mind feel tight And be wantin to battle like every five minutes But I'm in this like Guinness so that *** get finished Straight from the floors of hell, feel the flame You ****** ***, I heard your nickname's Blaine I hit your brain and you felt the pain, maintain When it comes to a battle you know the Buck reigns I vocal-throw the flow, *****s be like, "Yo, how'd you do that?" *****es be like "Yo who that, you're all that, yo, true that" Never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it I used to make money, now I just take it I do what I gotta do to bring you to the concrete Buckin *****s down cause they think **** is sweet I keep a Tec whenever I'm in the projects Ease out, then flex, in effect like Wreckx Buck to your head, now die is my slogan Don't front, you know I got you open
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