Chicago Niggas L.E.P Bogus Boys
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Chicago Niggas" by L.E.P Bogus Boys. 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: DJ Drama]
You know, they say the streets lost their edge a little bit
Too much emo rap in the game
Some of your favorites done fell off
And most people leave out a keyword in street music
It's called quality, let's show y'all how it's done
[Verse 1: Moonie]
(Yea, uh, uh)
Tell me what you know about the middle of the map
Gangstas in them all-black White Sox fitted-caps
(DJ Drama: Stay with me)
Posted on the block, thirty-shot clip hanging
This ain't a rap trend, Chi-Town been banging
(Dramatic, nigga)
(You know what I mean? Mr. Thanksgiving)
(Yeah)
...
Shootouts every night, they complaining that they can't sleep
It's a church and a liquor store all on the same street,
Rain, sleet, snow, man, I'm a hustle cocaine
All sales final; I'm a product of this dope game
Shorties got no aim, bullets got no name
Cluckers dancing in a line like they on Soul Train
We don't care about blue lights; come take a picture
Still tipping, that's the day of a Chicago nigga
You know, they say the streets lost their edge a little bit
Too much emo rap in the game
Some of your favorites done fell off
And most people leave out a keyword in street music
It's called quality, let's show y'all how it's done
[Verse 1: Moonie]
(Yea, uh, uh)
Tell me what you know about the middle of the map
Gangstas in them all-black White Sox fitted-caps
(DJ Drama: Stay with me)
Posted on the block, thirty-shot clip hanging
This ain't a rap trend, Chi-Town been banging
(Dramatic, nigga)
(You know what I mean? Mr. Thanksgiving)
(Yeah)
...
Shootouts every night, they complaining that they can't sleep
It's a church and a liquor store all on the same street,
Rain, sleet, snow, man, I'm a hustle cocaine
All sales final; I'm a product of this dope game
Shorties got no aim, bullets got no name
Cluckers dancing in a line like they on Soul Train
We don't care about blue lights; come take a picture
Still tipping, that's the day of a Chicago nigga
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