[Mr. Pookie]
|
Jus anotha day, chiffin hay, in North Dallas
|
C-Pone jus called me up, now I'm about to hit tha shower
|
Took me bout an hour, and now I'm creased down in my Polo
|
I'm makin these niggaz hate today, by wearin a crooked logo
|
Watch out for tha blow hoe, and leavin you bitches in tha mist
|
And if you niggaz dont trip on me, then I wont bust yo shit
|
Plus my click be tha ruffest, not sayin we tha toughest
|
But Stoneycrook niggaz, been known to come out wit tha ruckus
|
Fuck you who say fuck us, and all ya'll niggaz who be hatin'
|
Cappin, cause you can't fade me, runnin up on me daily
|
But baby, its mo' complicated, than you can see
|
Words lose all meanin', when niggaz see niggaz gleamin'
|
So dont you even think that you can get outta this
|
So bitch, to get me to this point, you must really got me pissed
|
I'm twist and dismember, choppin down nigga timber
|
Kodac moment remember, this crooked nigga a Rippla
|
|
Chorus [x2]
|
|
Whatchallwannado? If you trip, then we bomb first
|
Pull out tha guns first, chiff until I lungs hurt
|
I know bombin', but Tha Rippla finna bomb worse
|
Look at us come first, best believe be bomb worse
|
|
[Mr. Lucci]
|
Welcome to tha wild, wild west, tha southside, its me, a killa
|
Fuck Billy tha Kid nigga, it's Lucci tha Wig Splitta
|
Like Tyson a hard hitta, toe tag deala
|
A brain spilla, body chilla, mind thrilla, fuck it, killa
|
On tha grind for my scrilla, rhymin' hard, workin strong
|
Chiffin smoke up in my long, still my whole bag gon
|
I live long, for doin wrong, cause wit my crooks, man its on
|
Leave a nigga dome blown, or up shit creek, all alone
|
For bumpin his grill, he must thought he was go cheat one, 4 real
|
Now he killed, 6 feet he feel, surrounded by mob skillz
|
Crooked is as crooked does, like crooked thugs
|
And crooked hugs and crooked slugs and crooked luv
|
It aint neva enuff, until I whip it out my holsta
|
Cocked back ready to roast ya, on every wanted poster
|
Stayin' high like a vulture, inflictin' pain from smoke
|
Those crooked soljaz smokin, let tha coroner dispose ya
|
|
Chorus [x2]
|
|
[C-Pone]
|
I been quick to cause a tragedy, fuckin wit my faculty
|
Bullets sprayed rapidly, now they died from my fatality
|
Fuck those who try to battle me, this rap shit is a mastery
|
Bomb viciously, leavin tha whole scene full of catastrophes
|
Hollow my calvary, when I feel danger in tha mist
|
Now I'm pissed, wit a clutched fist
|
Around they Ashton and my 45th
|
No mo lift, in these shady niggaz in fleets
|
We be deadlier than a weed blunt dipped in Phaldahyde and Morphine
|
Sparklin' clean up through tha industry
|
Lyrics at yo weak feet, they notice me
|
Due to my unique style of Texas poetry
|
Blowin these, wack MC's, who refuse to give our props
|
Platinum hitz from tha Stoneycrook click, til we all sittin on top
|
When Tha Rippla drop, best believe we comin wit bombs
|
Turnin' yo average house party, into a modern day Vietnam
|
Run up if you want some, we clash like Titans
|
Aint no collaboration deadlier than Stoneycrook and I come
|
|
Chorus [x2]
|
|
-----------------
|
Whatchallwannado
|
| Mr. Pookie |