调：Eb major•
Verse 1
These are the things
Seein' more things
Me and DJ Paul
We gon' play socidal to go slappin'
through thy window
Somethin's creepin' up slow
Some sippin' on the women
Who gon' want to cross my fules,
attention
Not only was you weak
I stop the car
Said do you want to buck em'
Rough Koopsta
Shirt I knew your hurt
Take the bridge back
Sentence see your gone son
Devils in your Chris
It's the coulda me dree z's
Make prophet me
See that's what you get for talkin' shit
Trick I drop you in the splunder
Verse 2
Come, come who the fuck
They want some
Niggas want to jump, jump
Get'cha make ya pump, Paul
Off a nigga fakin'
Goin' to a richin'
Mafioso rule by
And he will act a fool
when he don't give a damn
Couldn't buy the wet slide
Goin' on this best lide
Lord Infamous done with tight
You know what I want
But do Koopsta gets it
Storm on this bitch
Astronomical Triple 6
Writes space on top of astroids
Comin' to rip up the shore
We killin' the fool
So act a fool boy
C
Verse 3
Chorus x4
Stomp motherfucker,
move his ass
down to the pump)
Verse 4
deep
In the North
When niggas stay drunk
And smoke on your portch
From on my streets
Wit all only peeps
I used to scratch
And throw down beats
I made a mix
With real deep bass
The noise I had to be slangin' tapes
DJ in this shit try to make that shit
Studio 9 was the place to be
Where all jocks were tryin' to get
The chance get on the tape
Bein' a fool
Keep tryin' i'm not goin' to quit
The gangsta walk is what we call
Whn niggas are buckin'
I'm still gonna dance
The third a fool
And show no love
Just throw in our face
And gettin' refunds
They might want to fight
Later on the night
Cause Memphis playas don't give a fuck
We smack the punks
For throwin' us out
For smokin' a blunt
The number ones on
It just cam on
Eb
Juicy's in the motherfuckin'
Verse 5
house
It's the peel yo
Motherfuckin' stand back
It's they fuckin' steelo
We can't fuckin' brag
Cause we comin' up
Robbers on my ass
Should I blast
Cause they runnin' up
No present turn to yo
With the sayin'
Saw your nine
Boy I call that kick door
I stick those
And now we back to my hood
Don't want the left they die yet
But he wishin' he would
For this bunk shit
But these niggas had to creep
That boy they stupid
I sit, I leave these hoes for
a permanent sleep
We gotta get em' up
Triple 6 and Prophet Posse
Outro 1
Chorus x4
Cm
Eb
Db
Cm
Eb
Eb
Cm
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