| 作曲 : Grinnage, Murry | |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh | |
| [lil fame] | |
| I'm back and i'm stuck up in this bitch [who dat?] | |
| Me bitch [who dat?] | |
| The brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch? | |
| I'm known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic | |
| Cuz when i'm spittin, i'ma split your shitit | |
| When i aim, yo you try to get a name | |
| But aint, provin a thang | |
| I'm still doin my thang,[go head] bells they still ring [uh huh] | |
| Now who the lame that wan' tango with lil fame | |
| Step in the ring and i'll break yo' ass up like mills lane | |
| [aaaaaaaahhhhh!!!] how you like me now? | |
| That *kool moe p* shit, nigga, put it down | |
| Yo i need a silencer gat, shit too loud | |
| When that bitch start to holla, nigga do child | |
| Made the church people on your block wanna move out | |
| I bump off and i dump off, and a nigga cool out | |
| Why? cuz when we in the place with the guns in our waist | |
| We don't say put your hands up, niggas stand up | |
| You gotta get it, cuz you now listen | |
| Dump off your body ?til your whole family die fishin? | |
| The street mayor, ghetto street playa | |
| Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare | |
| Fuck the fame!, i agree fuck the fame | |
| But i got four words for ya, don't fuck with fame | |
| Cuz i'm a machine gun kelley, clappa dude | |
| Write my name across your belly, drdrdrdrdrdrdrdr yap a dude! | |
| Aint no escapin these streets i'm raised in | |
| It's so amazin, we still blazin | |
| Aint no savin yo' ass from hell raisin | |
| They be strippin your cantelope off the pavement | |
| Wit yo' wig split in half and your chest caved in | |
| So walk on the green, i'ma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between | |
| So listen up and hear me boy, i'm the american [slash!] pretty boy | |
| Hook: | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Violaters try to get with us, we quick to bust | |
| Them false dudes can't get wit us | |
| Hoes grillin cuz we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Fools try to move but them fools can't get wit us | |
| Cuz we holdin, blastin, lowlin, blastin, strollin, trashin, rollin, | |
| Mashin!! | |
| [billy danze] | |
| I done figured it out [what's that?] | |
| They don't want us to shine [true] | |
| You lost your mind if you thought i tossed my iron | |
| I still got it, for when i'm facin situations like this | |
| You dissin? i'm hittin | |
| Listen, is it me or the industry to understand | |
| I'm a whole different breed of man | |
| Bill danze, brownsville, bronx | |
| And i'm servin double and single shots on the rocks, nigga [aaaaaaahhh!!] | |
| What! who gon' tame me | |
| I'm a back block nigga and can't, nobody change me | |
| You can look at me strangely | |
| Keep yappin at your dogs if i go up in your mouth, don't blame me | |
| First family trainee, take what's mine | |
| '99 is my time to shine, that's that | |
| [take it easy] fuck that, i'm ready yo | |
| I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools on this radio | |
| Fizzy wo', [suckas never played us] | |
| They can't fade us, they hate us, they anus | |
| In fact when you touch 'em face to face, they stay in they place | |
| They know i'm slayed up from the right side left five in one fist | |
| Shutup! shutup! now you wanna show love | |
| You hear the soft music in the background it's your brain on slugs | |
| Now, it's a dirty job but somebody gotta do it | |
| So i crept up, stepped up, got to it [fire!!] | |
| Hook |
| zuo qu : Grinnage, Murry | |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh | |
| lil fame | |
| I' m back and i' m stuck up in this bitch who dat? | |
| Me bitch who dat? | |
| The brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch? | |
| I' m known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic | |
| Cuz when i' m spittin, i' ma split your shitit | |
| When i aim, yo you try to get a name | |
| But aint, provin a thang | |
| I' m still doin my thang, go head bells they still ring uh huh | |
| Now who the lame that wan' tango with lil fame | |
| Step in the ring and i' ll break yo' ass up like mills lane | |
| aaaaaaaahhhhh!!! how you like me now? | |
| That kool moe p shit, nigga, put it down | |
| Yo i need a silencer gat, shit too loud | |
| When that bitch start to holla, nigga do child | |
| Made the church people on your block wanna move out | |
| I bump off and i dump off, and a nigga cool out | |
| Why? cuz when we in the place with the guns in our waist | |
| We don' t say put your hands up, niggas stand up | |
| You gotta get it, cuz you now listen | |
| Dump off your body ? til your whole family die fishin? | |
| The street mayor, ghetto street playa | |
| Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare | |
| Fuck the fame!, i agree fuck the fame | |
| But i got four words for ya, don' t fuck with fame | |
| Cuz i' m a machine gun kelley, clappa dude | |
| Write my name across your belly, drdrdrdrdrdrdrdr yap a dude! | |
| Aint no escapin these streets i' m raised in | |
| It' s so amazin, we still blazin | |
| Aint no savin yo' ass from hell raisin | |
| They be strippin your cantelope off the pavement | |
| Wit yo' wig split in half and your chest caved in | |
| So walk on the green, i' ma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between | |
| So listen up and hear me boy, i' m the american slash! pretty boy | |
| Hook: | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Violaters try to get with us, we quick to bust | |
| Them false dudes can' t get wit us | |
| Hoes grillin cuz we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Fools try to move but them fools can' t get wit us | |
| Cuz we holdin, blastin, lowlin, blastin, strollin, trashin, rollin, | |
| Mashin!! | |
| billy danze | |
| I done figured it out what' s that? | |
| They don' t want us to shine true | |
| You lost your mind if you thought i tossed my iron | |
| I still got it, for when i' m facin situations like this | |
| You dissin? i' m hittin | |
| Listen, is it me or the industry to understand | |
| I' m a whole different breed of man | |
| Bill danze, brownsville, bronx | |
| And i' m servin double and single shots on the rocks, nigga aaaaaaahhh!! | |
| What! who gon' tame me | |
| I' m a back block nigga and can' t, nobody change me | |
| You can look at me strangely | |
| Keep yappin at your dogs if i go up in your mouth, don' t blame me | |
| First family trainee, take what' s mine | |
| ' 99 is my time to shine, that' s that | |
| take it easy fuck that, i' m ready yo | |
| I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools on this radio | |
| Fizzy wo', suckas never played us | |
| They can' t fade us, they hate us, they anus | |
| In fact when you touch ' em face to face, they stay in they place | |
| They know i' m slayed up from the right side left five in one fist | |
| Shutup! shutup! now you wanna show love | |
| You hear the soft music in the background it' s your brain on slugs | |
| Now, it' s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it | |
| So i crept up, stepped up, got to it fire!! | |
| Hook |
| zuò qǔ : Grinnage, Murry | |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh | |
| lil fame | |
| I' m back and i' m stuck up in this bitch who dat? | |
| Me bitch who dat? | |
| The brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch? | |
| I' m known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic | |
| Cuz when i' m spittin, i' ma split your shitit | |
| When i aim, yo you try to get a name | |
| But aint, provin a thang | |
| I' m still doin my thang, go head bells they still ring uh huh | |
| Now who the lame that wan' tango with lil fame | |
| Step in the ring and i' ll break yo' ass up like mills lane | |
| aaaaaaaahhhhh!!! how you like me now? | |
| That kool moe p shit, nigga, put it down | |
| Yo i need a silencer gat, shit too loud | |
| When that bitch start to holla, nigga do child | |
| Made the church people on your block wanna move out | |
| I bump off and i dump off, and a nigga cool out | |
| Why? cuz when we in the place with the guns in our waist | |
| We don' t say put your hands up, niggas stand up | |
| You gotta get it, cuz you now listen | |
| Dump off your body ? til your whole family die fishin? | |
| The street mayor, ghetto street playa | |
| Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare | |
| Fuck the fame!, i agree fuck the fame | |
| But i got four words for ya, don' t fuck with fame | |
| Cuz i' m a machine gun kelley, clappa dude | |
| Write my name across your belly, drdrdrdrdrdrdrdr yap a dude! | |
| Aint no escapin these streets i' m raised in | |
| It' s so amazin, we still blazin | |
| Aint no savin yo' ass from hell raisin | |
| They be strippin your cantelope off the pavement | |
| Wit yo' wig split in half and your chest caved in | |
| So walk on the green, i' ma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between | |
| So listen up and hear me boy, i' m the american slash! pretty boy | |
| Hook: | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Violaters try to get with us, we quick to bust | |
| Them false dudes can' t get wit us | |
| Hoes grillin cuz we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough | |
| First fam, ridiculous | |
| Fools try to move but them fools can' t get wit us | |
| Cuz we holdin, blastin, lowlin, blastin, strollin, trashin, rollin, | |
| Mashin!! | |
| billy danze | |
| I done figured it out what' s that? | |
| They don' t want us to shine true | |
| You lost your mind if you thought i tossed my iron | |
| I still got it, for when i' m facin situations like this | |
| You dissin? i' m hittin | |
| Listen, is it me or the industry to understand | |
| I' m a whole different breed of man | |
| Bill danze, brownsville, bronx | |
| And i' m servin double and single shots on the rocks, nigga aaaaaaahhh!! | |
| What! who gon' tame me | |
| I' m a back block nigga and can' t, nobody change me | |
| You can look at me strangely | |
| Keep yappin at your dogs if i go up in your mouth, don' t blame me | |
| First family trainee, take what' s mine | |
| ' 99 is my time to shine, that' s that | |
| take it easy fuck that, i' m ready yo | |
| I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools on this radio | |
| Fizzy wo', suckas never played us | |
| They can' t fade us, they hate us, they anus | |
| In fact when you touch ' em face to face, they stay in they place | |
| They know i' m slayed up from the right side left five in one fist | |
| Shutup! shutup! now you wanna show love | |
| You hear the soft music in the background it' s your brain on slugs | |
| Now, it' s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it | |
| So i crept up, stepped up, got to it fire!! | |
| Hook |
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