(feat. Royal T, Point Blank, OG Spanish Fly)
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[Royal T]
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Hell Yeah
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Check this out
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It's motherfuckin' Royal T homie
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Up on this bitch
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Fuckin' vatos yappin' homie
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We don't fuck around at Low Pro
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[Verse 1]
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Never fucking around
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You wanna be known the way I be puttin' them down
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Bucking them down fool, the way I be getting around
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Hard on the city, be fellin' your pity, just hopin' there's no tomorrow
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When ever you mom's on my mind fool, you know the time
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The way I murder and slaughter you father, your mother, and your daughter
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When ever you comin', you better be gunnin', before I make my motherfuckin'
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?? comin'
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Gang bangin' in the 6-1-9, Low Pro keep it real when we on the grind
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I'm stuck up fool, I don't hear the hater's talkin'
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I focus on chips, that bullshit keep walkin'
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Got at your ex, cause baby doll keep jockin'
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Got her, sprong on the dick, now that bitch is night stalkin'
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Tryna be my baby's mama, but chill baby doll
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I already got one, that drive's me up the fuckin' wall
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I'm just tryna ball, and be single and free
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Now watch me hope a '63 from L.A. to S.D.
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[Chorus x2:]
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It's so ruff, so tuff, the shit we been trough (What!!)
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A Whole lotta hatin', be still continue (Biatch)
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Making dope track's that still offend you (What!!)
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Either we gonna hit the street's or we gonn hit'chu (Oooooo)
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[Verse 2]
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I'm old school, no 20's, I roll 13's
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S.D., Jersey, it's about time you heard me
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Slow motion through the city
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Needy with the greedy
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What'chu know about the Low Profile committee
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Scopin' chica's with the tight clothes
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Always spittin' tight flows, hit'chu with oh, five holes
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What'chu ready to die holmes?
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Watch me get my shine on, watch me get my ride on
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If you got beef, homie, we gonna collide homles
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True gangster shit, get on my hit
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Now trip if you wanna trip
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But I spit flows, equivalent, 2 slug's of the clip
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Don't slit, we got it on lock, keep da block from burnin' down
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Platinum sounds, made enough cash, to put you underground
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Hell yeah, got that heat, 17 shot's across the street
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I made that money, and like pussy, I'm gonna kill it
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Ese's don't play, we roll mad ??
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Test the ball's on my homie, you'll be dead in the street of Southeast
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[Chorus x2]
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[Verse 3: Lil' Rob]
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I wake up in the morning, can't wait for night time
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You said you got a style but it's not quite like mine
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You said your fucking real? then let's keep it real
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You wanna be like me cause I got the rap appeal
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You little leva, every time I hear your name
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I laugh cause I know you, claimin' that your somethin'
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You ain't nothin', your bluffin', so ruff, so tuff
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When your on the mic, put it down, like your head
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When I saw you at the mall that night
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Every thing you say is dumb, crack my cranium
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I'll crack you cranium, in the center, of Qualcomm Stadium
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With everybody watchin', "You can only witness the thing's you see
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Not the things you hear" remember that, so stop talking
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mocking what your jocking, next time you see me puto, keep on walkin'
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Don't be stopping or we'll be boxing
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You hate me, but you play me, how else would you hear this
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Checkin' out my lyrics cause you fear this you can't get near this
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[Chorus x2]
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-----------------
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A Whole Lotta Hatin'
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| Lil' Rob |
