We Pop Lyrics


publisher: ©Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
writers: Dorsey Wesley, Robert F. Diggs, Russell T. Jones, Frederick Wilson Cuffie, S. Cuffie
album: Track 3 in album Birth of a Prince
release date: 2003-10-7
popularity : 6 users have visited this page.
genres: Hip Hop
styles: Thug Rap/Pop Rap/Conscious
length: 4:54
producer: Megahertz

Cover Art

RZA Birth of a Prince cover art
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We pop, we brawl, gettin' money til the day we fall
We pop, we brawl, gettin' money til the day we fall

Double barrel shotgun (blaow), pop son
I told *****, just not run
I saw him on 205th in Fordham
This dog was frozen, so my high heat thawed him (Wu!)
I blown ya, you need a blood donor
My ***** ghetto, like Florida and Laronia (girl)
Laundry mat hoes, who want clothes?
I flow checks, one followed by six o's (six o's)
I got hoes, in codes, in different areas
Four ton whips that's sittin' on interiors
The bass shake in the club like it's earthquakin'
I **** arm, pass the bomb, like Troy Aikman (Aikman)
Play the basement like Bruce Wayne and **** Grayson
You miserable, you get kidnapped by Kathy Bason
Thrown to the dungeon, for your spongin'
Of Wu Killa Bee, what's your total malfunction?

(Chorus: ShaCronz & ODB)
We pop, we brawl, get money til the day we fall (yeah)
My glock (my glock), my four (my four)
throw shots through your bedroom door (bedroom door)
From the P's, to the morgue, cop Louie all the way to my drawers (New York)
We pop (pop), we brawl (brawl), get money til the way we fall

Come on, let's cut the crap, money
I've been gettin' this rap money
Crack money, stack money, I'm tryin' to get that Shaq money
That Mike Tyson, Michael Jordan, Michael Jack' money
Five hundred mill' and better, dog, yeah, now that's money
Act funny, ya'll make me laugh (haha)
Frontin' like you tough, you softer than a baby's ***
These lazy *** labels -- **** you! Pay me cash
My crazy path promoted me into a Mercedes class


Yeah.., all ya'll can see is the back of my jersey
Blowin' in the wind, goin' back to Jersey
Off to Brooklyn, left you back in Jersey
I was doin' a buck 90 like a throwback jersey
Shame on a *****, take it back to Dirty
Run, game on a *****, I'll be back in thirty
Seconds, got the world's greatest record
And that money I'mma spend it like your greatest record
This Division, all the ladies respect it
Disrespect it and the eighty'll check it
It ain't hard to see how ya'll ignorin' the steel
*****s that I clap, lookin' for me still
Til they look like they came out of George Foreman grill
Thoughts are stolen on Free, must be on them crills
Plus my, team gon' be holdin' like forty mill'
Thoughts are rollin' on E., must be on those pills


Track Listing

CD 1
  • 1 Bob n' I
  • 2 The Grunge
  • 3 We Pop
  • 4 Grits
  • 5 Fast Cars
  • 6 Chi Kung
  • 7 You'll Never Know
  • 8 Drink, Smoke + Fuck
  • 9 The Whistle
  • 10 The Drop Off
  • 11 Wherever I Go
  • 12 Koto Chotan
  • 13 A Day to God Is 1,000 Years
  • 14 Cherry Range
  • 15 The Birth
  • 16 See the Joy