lirik lagu gangsta tweed – tweedy bird loc
chorus: fo’ clips & tammi holt:
ain’t no givin’ a fucc in the cpt
ain’t no givin’ a f*ck…!
if you ain’t down with compton then biatch you ain’t down with me, cpt: cap peelin’ territory
yeah… territory yeahh!
verse 1: tweedy bird loc:
gangsta tweed, is about to rhyme
if your b*tch is on the bacc ’cause the tramp’s all mine
gotta be a full tucced b*tch peeler in the cpt, n*gga gonna maintain
keep my ends off the key, turn to shove them n*ggas, see ’em through the scope
straight gangsta rhythm left another n*gga broke
finna die, a busta’s death
put him with his left, start the jeep then i step
to the eastside hub city onto kelly
busta*ass b*tch flaggin’ me down, finna make a sale
cheap chronic, man, dub saccs some mo’
there goes in my hand, get yo’ zags at the store
there you go, now the b*tch slippin’ her number
but the tricky*ass b*tch gon’ be the first to go under
smacc the b*tch with a gat in her head if she white
blow the b*tch up and now i’m with that sh*t every night
tell these mothafuccas they are broke than a b*tch
if you let me tell it, i don’t have to tell you sh*t
here goes another silly b*tch wanna fucc
if the tweed don’t want that ass, toss that b*tch up
and sticc some, hollow*ass tips down her throat
and burn her punk*ass n*ggas who really though
yo’ mothafuccin’ mama, that b*tch will get beat
by gangsta tweed, gangsta tweed
chorus
verse 2: tweedy bird loc:
k!llin’ all f*ggots down with n*ggas down for theirs
me myself, i make the hardest mothafuccas straight stare
fool handle, yo’ mothafuccin’ business
before you talk it, you always gettin’ near sh*t
get too quicc, to be gone, now it’s own
tell these fools if the tweed get beat, then peel his dome
can’t a near mothafucca stop me
b*tch buyin’ the dicc, if she ain’t knowin’, it will cost her
tramp*ass hoe somethin’ great
but i ain’t fuccin’ without at least 3 rubbers and some ducc tape
punk wearin’ menace slow your mothafuccin’ roll
i’m on, swole
nappy necc*ass b*tch know she ain’t worth sh*t
without a tongue, two lips, and some mothafuccin’ sticc
make my dicc bow down b*tch, or raise the fucc up
you ain’t gettin’ none of your sh*t, all your clothes is gone, slicc
get yo’ naked ass in the wind
so i can find another stupid b*tch like you, and begin again
nothin’ broke dead b*tches quicc to sleep
by gangsta tweed, gangsta tweed!
chorus x3
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