5 Fingas of Death Diamond D (Ft. D.I.T.C.)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "5 Fingas of Death" by Diamond D (Ft. D.I.T.C.). 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: Samples]
"Where are you?!"
"Hey, there you are!"
"How does it feel to know you only have a few more seconds left to live?"
[Cut and scratched]
"Big L!"
[Verse 1: Big L]
Check it! I stay jeweled up, pockets swelled up from banks I held up
Plenty bitch-ass niggas Big L stuck
I never catch cold feet when I hold heat
We roll deep in a triple black dark-tinted old Jeep
I catch a fag 3 o'clock in the morn'
On the block all alone and put a Glock to his dome
Tell him, "Give it up quick, you nitwit! Don't try to get slick
Or I'ma let this four-fifth spit and leave your shit split"
Prick, it ain’t nothin' decent about me
A true thug, for real, you can ask the precinct about me
A rap junkie, don't try to play me like some flunky
Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy
Mad niggas be frontin' a lot
Poppin' mad shit, tryna be somethin' they not
Your faggot ass better stick to dancin'
Don't even look at me, I might break your jaw just for glancin'
That's right! In '97, Harlem kids is blowin'
And we don't trick, we'll let a bitch starve 'til her ribs are showin'
"Where are you?!"
"Hey, there you are!"
"How does it feel to know you only have a few more seconds left to live?"
[Cut and scratched]
"Big L!"
[Verse 1: Big L]
Check it! I stay jeweled up, pockets swelled up from banks I held up
Plenty bitch-ass niggas Big L stuck
I never catch cold feet when I hold heat
We roll deep in a triple black dark-tinted old Jeep
I catch a fag 3 o'clock in the morn'
On the block all alone and put a Glock to his dome
Tell him, "Give it up quick, you nitwit! Don't try to get slick
Or I'ma let this four-fifth spit and leave your shit split"
Prick, it ain’t nothin' decent about me
A true thug, for real, you can ask the precinct about me
A rap junkie, don't try to play me like some flunky
Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy
Mad niggas be frontin' a lot
Poppin' mad shit, tryna be somethin' they not
Your faggot ass better stick to dancin'
Don't even look at me, I might break your jaw just for glancin'
That's right! In '97, Harlem kids is blowin'
And we don't trick, we'll let a bitch starve 'til her ribs are showin'
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