| Original Message |
Shif_T (no login)
Posted Jan 6, 2006 9:56 AM
Bad Boy ( Imma Do Me )
shyne's a fuckin legend already...50's dumb nigga... thinks he knows shit...bad boy...AY!
Verse 1:
what type o' nigga is you?....
the type to be a bitch just ta fit in another mans' shoes
ya can keep ya stacks and jewels, imma be wrappin you
smothered in blood in a zip up plastic suit
clips.gunz.and ruges, makes tips comin for you
runnin with bloods dumpin your body in the slum pits
but i'll still call ya cuz b-cuz i know enough crips
rollin through the guts of flint taught to tuck a grip
ask about my name well respected for ruffin up kids
zigzags and a six pack witta thick bag full of green
even my homies in my rap group dont know this side of me
niggas switch sides when we clickin and clackin
niggas on my strip call me clip-o-matic
put the clip in the matic and start spittin fat tips
this lil crip's a savage with a rip of havoc
jackin kids for actin bitch or hard, either way you lackin this
you a snitch you get hit this aint the ass to kiss
in flint town the way to get down gets niggas put in the hospital
str8 street we dont need a reason to leave ya bleedin fuck probable
fuck a cause we'll plug ya ma n tie her to the top of a pole
document 1 bitch unbreakable and unstoppable
movin yayo at one point rollin joints tryin to make that fast cash
oppurtunity to stop abusin the streets and get out so heres the last chance
shifty theft's out call me floyd imma just do me
bein g'd up you see cuffs so im gearin from head to feet
Hook:
Bad Boy, Bad Boy
We Know He's A Bad Boy
Bad Boy, Bad Boy
We Know He's A Bad Boy
Verse 2:
jack your car parts at 12:01...
run down the road screamin hell-i-on...
boy dont start shit ive always been heartless from the beginnin
we'll just leave your rims on the drop if dont stop spinnin
non-flauntin soft top drop coppin, poppin off the cops
you nuts then i'll crack ya , you rip then i'll jack ya, and you'll flop
not complicated im the don yall hatin in the game full of envy and rage
full clips with plenty gauge to spray yo gran mammys' place
those rims you say spin are nothin but aluminum tins
payless shoes and you say you kickin timbalands
yall wanna be g's why dont you just face your stamp-life
ya neva get a dime cuz you'll be stuck wit that tramp wife
the gat n9ne i clamp tight in my hand right
made your man die and i made you not stand high
unlike marshall i know some cartel that would get your car bailed
leave ya in the moss stale mobbed and killed cuz the dawgs you hired failed
it gets windy when you get hit with the flint breeze and the tips spreads
no birds singin or alrms ringin this thang's known to leave kids dead
this homie not drinkin mocas he's more bout playin wit toastas
midwesta lettin tips fly for chedda with berrettas out the holstas
Hook:
Bad Boy, Bad Boy
We Know He's A Bad Boy
Bad Boy, Bad Boy
We Know He's A Bad Boy
to be continued....
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