| 歌曲 | Y'all Can't Never Hurt Us |
| 歌手 | Philly's Most Wanted |
| 专辑 | Get Down Or Lay Down |
| 作词 : A. B. Holly/J. Witherspoon/T. Jones | |
| 作曲 : A. B. Holly/J. Witherspoon/T. Jones | |
| Verse 1: Mr. Mr. & (Boobonic) | |
| Yo, I'm two short of a brick, you two wit' me? | |
| (I got two O's and I'm bringin' two hoes wit' me) | |
| Look, don't bullshit me, scoop and come get me | |
| (Shit, I'll be there in ten unless the Feds come hit me) | |
| (I move like lightening, thats what I was told) | |
| We can't trust these niggas, keep it comin' in codes | |
| (we had a deal on the table since ten years old) | |
| Was on Readyrock records, LP went gold | |
| (we had 36 groups, but they cooked up Nine) | |
| Managed 28 groups, what they cooked was mines | |
| Niggas wanna act fly, we forced to hit 'em up | |
| (and we just sold y'all a brick in code, so nigga what) | |
| Chorus (Both) | |
| Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt | |
| Us) | |
| You'll **** my bitch, shoot at my whole click, look (y'all can't never | |
| Hurt us) | |
| Cause we'll shake the Feds, take ya bitch, money long, we got locked we | |
| Appeal the shit | |
| Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt | |
| Us) | |
| Verse 2: (Mr. Mr.) | |
| I pass through more bills than congress in D.C | |
| Stacks so thick you think you see 'em in 3-D | |
| If I'm outta town I phone home like E.T | |
| Drive a CE, try CL fever | |
| Move plenty coke, got more spots than Cheetahs | |
| Got heaters, ain't scared to pop neither | |
| Shoot you, them three, and him too | |
| Thats my procedure, **** you gon' do? | |
| Hustle for all C's, you don't even dig | |
| Chick, car, chips, cold ass crib | |
| Best man at that, I'm the rap Taye Diggs | |
| Most Wanted keep it lethal like Murtaugh and Briggs | |
| A nice banana clip, I'll split your wig | |
| I'm a gangsta, you scared to death ain't ya? | |
| Carry more weight on boats than ten anchors | |
| Southwest playboy like Hugh Hefner | |
| I lied, and my bitch be out in one gesture | |
| Cut coke open, give it a tongue tester | |
| Face get numb it's good shit I'll bet ya | |
| Jump out the Coupe, walk by and wet ya | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: (Boobonic) | |
| Nosey ass niggas don't believe shit stink | |
| 'till I cock the Glock and put two through his mink | |
| You loose with your lip? well, keep your vest tight | |
| 357 Mag in a Jag S-Type | |
| Don't talk me to death, you motha****as is just gettin' by | |
| While I'm rich bitch, just gettin' high | |
| You ain't on my level, you still admire skanks | |
| While I'm at Vic's Secret photo shoots with Tyra Banks | |
| And I'm not lyin', my advice is stop tryin' | |
| I bust big shit that'll never stop firin' | |
| Catch me at the bar whether it's the clam, shark, or sky | |
| I hate when rat niggas start to lie | |
| Dog, you don't got bricks | |
| I never seen you in the drop nor with a bitch | |
| You got your champaigne glass straight up, could tell you ain't never | |
| Poured Cris' | |
| Or bust a nigga with the Four-Fifth | |
| Stop your bullshit | |
| Chorus 4x |
| zuò cí : A. B. Holly J. Witherspoon T. Jones | |
| zuò qǔ : A. B. Holly J. Witherspoon T. Jones | |
| Verse 1: Mr. Mr. Boobonic | |
| Yo, I' m two short of a brick, you two wit' me? | |
| I got two O' s and I' m bringin' two hoes wit' me | |
| Look, don' t bullshit me, scoop and come get me | |
| Shit, I' ll be there in ten unless the Feds come hit me | |
| I move like lightening, thats what I was told | |
| We can' t trust these niggas, keep it comin' in codes | |
| we had a deal on the table since ten years old | |
| Was on Readyrock records, LP went gold | |
| we had 36 groups, but they cooked up Nine | |
| Managed 28 groups, what they cooked was mines | |
| Niggas wanna act fly, we forced to hit ' em up | |
| and we just sold y' all a brick in code, so nigga what | |
| Chorus Both | |
| Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look y' all can' t never hurt | |
| Us | |
| You' ll my bitch, shoot at my whole click, look y' all can' t never | |
| Hurt us | |
| Cause we' ll shake the Feds, take ya bitch, money long, we got locked we | |
| Appeal the shit | |
| Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look y' all can' t never hurt | |
| Us | |
| Verse 2: Mr. Mr. | |
| I pass through more bills than congress in D. C | |
| Stacks so thick you think you see ' em in 3D | |
| If I' m outta town I phone home like E. T | |
| Drive a CE, try CL fever | |
| Move plenty coke, got more spots than Cheetahs | |
| Got heaters, ain' t scared to pop neither | |
| Shoot you, them three, and him too | |
| Thats my procedure, you gon' do? | |
| Hustle for all C' s, you don' t even dig | |
| Chick, car, chips, cold ass crib | |
| Best man at that, I' m the rap Taye Diggs | |
| Most Wanted keep it lethal like Murtaugh and Briggs | |
| A nice banana clip, I' ll split your wig | |
| I' m a gangsta, you scared to death ain' t ya? | |
| Carry more weight on boats than ten anchors | |
| Southwest playboy like Hugh Hefner | |
| I lied, and my bitch be out in one gesture | |
| Cut coke open, give it a tongue tester | |
| Face get numb it' s good shit I' ll bet ya | |
| Jump out the Coupe, walk by and wet ya | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: Boobonic | |
| Nosey ass niggas don' t believe shit stink | |
| ' till I cock the Glock and put two through his mink | |
| You loose with your lip? well, keep your vest tight | |
| 357 Mag in a Jag SType | |
| Don' t talk me to death, you motha as is just gettin' by | |
| While I' m rich bitch, just gettin' high | |
| You ain' t on my level, you still admire skanks | |
| While I' m at Vic' s Secret photo shoots with Tyra Banks | |
| And I' m not lyin', my advice is stop tryin' | |
| I bust big shit that' ll never stop firin' | |
| Catch me at the bar whether it' s the clam, shark, or sky | |
| I hate when rat niggas start to lie | |
| Dog, you don' t got bricks | |
| I never seen you in the drop nor with a bitch | |
| You got your champaigne glass straight up, could tell you ain' t never | |
| Poured Cris' | |
| Or bust a nigga with the FourFifth | |
| Stop your bullshit | |
| Chorus 4x |