[Round 1: Shotgun Suge]
I’m all in his house with the cal in hand, this heat tucked
My homie gon' throw him over a high tower for thinkin' he street tough
If he got a strap, he got it for nothing: he Officer Sweet Chuck
You look and smell like police, I should make you kiss the curb and bite down
'Cuz this ain’t a battle, this is justice for Mike Brown
But why shoot him, when I can smack him 'til he change red?
Hella kicks to his rain head, his eyes open but he brain dead
This .45 stretched him, no Pilates
These headshots make niggas forget how to use they body
I leave him there, waiting to get picked all up
They like “Suge, why you pickin' on this white boy?”
Y’all must’ve forgot, these crackers picked on us
Slave ships they rented on us, slave trades they handed us up
We ain’t land on Plymouth Rock, motherfucker…
(Plymouth Rock landed on us!)
I beat up chumps with this devin’ right
So jump, white boy, and get bust like pressure pipes
I show 'em how with black hustle the white, that’s Wesley Snipes
I smack the shit outta Charron if he come incorrect
Smack called me to take his check
I tombstone Charron and won’t break a sweat
'Cuz beefin' with me make niggas wanna fake they death
You honky motherfuckers be killin' blacks, that’s incorrect
I’ll march down ya block, 100 Muslims, I am Malcolm X
I’m True to my Religion, no J-Hova, I’m at his front door like (?)
You ready to meet your creator? Allah waitin'
I kidnap your daughter to sell her body, don’t get her taken
That go for you, ya wifey, and ya boo, don’t get her Taken, too
I got a gun connect, I be mailing the chrome
I find out where ya mother leave when I trail her (trailer) home
You trailer trash cheapskate, you don’t even pee straight
This .40 big as hell, this kick don’t got a release date
Y’all must’ve forgot, I grab heat and blaze fire
And make niggas tap that mac like Jay Tyler
I know y’all want more, that’s the end of the round
South that, get 'em the fuck outta here
I’m all in his house with the cal in hand, this heat tucked
My homie gon' throw him over a high tower for thinkin' he street tough
If he got a strap, he got it for nothing: he Officer Sweet Chuck
You look and smell like police, I should make you kiss the curb and bite down
'Cuz this ain’t a battle, this is justice for Mike Brown
But why shoot him, when I can smack him 'til he change red?
Hella kicks to his rain head, his eyes open but he brain dead
This .45 stretched him, no Pilates
These headshots make niggas forget how to use they body
I leave him there, waiting to get picked all up
They like “Suge, why you pickin' on this white boy?”
Y’all must’ve forgot, these crackers picked on us
Slave ships they rented on us, slave trades they handed us up
We ain’t land on Plymouth Rock, motherfucker…
(Plymouth Rock landed on us!)
I beat up chumps with this devin’ right
So jump, white boy, and get bust like pressure pipes
I show 'em how with black hustle the white, that’s Wesley Snipes
I smack the shit outta Charron if he come incorrect
Smack called me to take his check
I tombstone Charron and won’t break a sweat
'Cuz beefin' with me make niggas wanna fake they death
You honky motherfuckers be killin' blacks, that’s incorrect
I’ll march down ya block, 100 Muslims, I am Malcolm X
I’m True to my Religion, no J-Hova, I’m at his front door like (?)
You ready to meet your creator? Allah waitin'
I kidnap your daughter to sell her body, don’t get her taken
That go for you, ya wifey, and ya boo, don’t get her Taken, too
I got a gun connect, I be mailing the chrome
I find out where ya mother leave when I trail her (trailer) home
You trailer trash cheapskate, you don’t even pee straight
This .40 big as hell, this kick don’t got a release date
Y’all must’ve forgot, I grab heat and blaze fire
And make niggas tap that mac like Jay Tyler
I know y’all want more, that’s the end of the round
South that, get 'em the fuck outta here
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!