2013 BET Hip Hop Awards - TDE Cypher BET (Ft. Black Hippy & Isaiah Rashad)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "2013 BET Hip Hop Awards - TDE Cypher" by BET (Ft. Black Hippy & Isaiah Rashad). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro: Kendrick Lamar]
Cypher
TDE
Schoolboy Q, what's hatnin'?
[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q]
Most of these niggas shouldn't be next to us
We keep our distance from those, those acting like hoes
Xanny imposed, weed in my clothes, cubics is gold
Your wig'll get told, put the realest niggas
Niggas, product of cap-peelers, gangbangers, and dealers
Streets keep watching—"Oh, ayy..." click, boom
The ghetto bird get shot down, straight to the top now
They want a third strike on my background
But nah, homie, put the mask on when I slide on 'em
Put the cash in the safe, and here's a extra slug 'fore I shake
You smoke faster than me with a eighth
Or better yet, a wet break on a plate
Burning your faith, all your senses covered in tape
Fucking with them boys in blue
Chill out before I send them rags at you
You running to the cops saying, "How we do?"
Saying, "It's just rap, and them lines ain't true"
So I just do Q, fuck it, a ménage à two
Or maybe trois, baby girl need a papa, I be her da-da
Coochie spanking, give praise to Allah
Get blazed in my car, with Oxymoron—Rock
Cypher
TDE
Schoolboy Q, what's hatnin'?
[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q]
Most of these niggas shouldn't be next to us
We keep our distance from those, those acting like hoes
Xanny imposed, weed in my clothes, cubics is gold
Your wig'll get told, put the realest niggas
Niggas, product of cap-peelers, gangbangers, and dealers
Streets keep watching—"Oh, ayy..." click, boom
The ghetto bird get shot down, straight to the top now
They want a third strike on my background
But nah, homie, put the mask on when I slide on 'em
Put the cash in the safe, and here's a extra slug 'fore I shake
You smoke faster than me with a eighth
Or better yet, a wet break on a plate
Burning your faith, all your senses covered in tape
Fucking with them boys in blue
Chill out before I send them rags at you
You running to the cops saying, "How we do?"
Saying, "It's just rap, and them lines ain't true"
So I just do Q, fuck it, a ménage à two
Or maybe trois, baby girl need a papa, I be her da-da
Coochie spanking, give praise to Allah
Get blazed in my car, with Oxymoron—Rock
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