| 作词 : Edwards, Gray | |
| (juvenile) | |
| Ah hmmm hmmmm | |
| Hmmmm hmmm | |
| Verse 1 (juvenile) | |
| When i say i don't give a fuck | |
| I mean that yeah | |
| Niggaz brains is gettin bust | |
| I didn't say that yeah | |
| If a shipment was comin in | |
| I need a haul of dat wodie | |
| I need a sixty-forty nigga | |
| And no chargin' that wodie | |
| You done heard about michael jackson | |
| And shiggidy shit | |
| But you ain't never heard about me | |
| When i'm flissin a bitch | |
| Niggas shoulders gettin knocked | |
| Clean off of they head | |
| See that red dot comin from | |
| Me and my girlfriend | |
| Cause i wants mine | |
| I needs mine | |
| And i'm about to get mine | |
| At these times | |
| Look lil' daddy | |
| You ain't got to worry about none of these other niggas | |
| You needs to be worried about when juvi comin to get ya | |
| Look, i make a phone call to the big dog | |
| Y'all bitches better handle y'all business before i hit y'all | |
| Even though a nigga rich and i rock ice | |
| I still bust a nigga head on the block aright | |
| (chorus)2x (juvenile & lil' wayne) | |
| (juvenile) | |
| It's enemy turf that i'm on | |
| So i'ma play it how it go | |
| Cock the hollow points | |
| And tote my black calico | |
| My lil' brother weezy | |
| (lil' wayne) | |
| My big brother juvi | |
| Both hit tha blocks | |
| Strapped up with the uzis | |
| Verse 2 (lil' wayne) | |
| What, what, la | |
| Gun for gun | |
| Eye for eye | |
| Better move yo' wife and son | |
| Cause i ride or die | |
| Cash money hot boy | |
| Bless me when i'm gone | |
| But until then load up the chrome cause it's on | |
| I been bout it | |
| Put a boot up in my lip and put my dirty up in a clip | |
| I drop the top and then i flip i hit his cock and make 'em flip | |
| And i be full of that trash | |
| I be the first one to jump out the jag bust at 'em fast | |
| Watch the bullets chop off the head | |
| And make 'em fall in the grass | |
| One move they all die | |
| Lil' weezy small fry | |
| Guerilla when it's war time | |
| Y'all better learn | |
| When this nigga shoot it'll be all hell | |
| Well then let 'em burn | |
| Hold 'em fo' ransom, hear me smart boy | |
| Seven churn and i be damn if i let 'em go | |
| If i don't get my dough | |
| Then hell will be all blowin' | |
| Til i r.i.p., c.m.b. i be | |
| I put it down for all my peeps | |
| Nigga, i'm h.b. for real | |
| (chorus)2x | |
| Verse 3 | |
| All i know is the streets | |
| And how to strap up | |
| When it's time shoot it | |
| Cock yo' heaters | |
| Tie up yo' bags | |
| It's time to do it | |
| Blaze the blunt | |
| Shut off the lights | |
| And cut down the music | |
| Roll down the windows | |
| Turn the corner | |
| And let loose with the bbbbrrrrrr | |
| If ya don't know now | |
| Then ya never will learn | |
| You ca play with lil' wayne | |
| And yo' block get burned | |
| You must love to go swimmin | |
| Cause tha water gets deeper | |
| See i bust you wide open | |
| And take 'ya daughter with me | |
| Here come the beat boy | |
| Shoot out the street lights | |
| Time to bring on the heat boy | |
| If you ain't really wit it | |
| Then you better get back | |
| I open yo' chest | |
| And make it look just like a wet cat | |
| This is a death trap | |
| I'ma a guerilla and i mean it | |
| Leave ya' head still in a beanin' | |
| Lyin' on the cement | |
| Calicoe steamin' | |
| Red dot beamin' | |
| Dressed up suspicious | |
| Play wit lil' weezy, you'll be dinner for tha fishes | |
| (chorus)2x | |
| Enemy turf | |
| Time to strap up | |
| What |
| zuo ci : Edwards, Gray | |
| juvenile | |
| Ah hmmm hmmmm | |
| Hmmmm hmmm | |
| Verse 1 juvenile | |
| When i say i don' t give a fuck | |
| I mean that yeah | |
| Niggaz brains is gettin bust | |
| I didn' t say that yeah | |
| If a shipment was comin in | |
| I need a haul of dat wodie | |
| I need a sixtyforty nigga | |
| And no chargin' that wodie | |
| You done heard about michael jackson | |
| And shiggidy shit | |
| But you ain' t never heard about me | |
| When i' m flissin a bitch | |
| Niggas shoulders gettin knocked | |
| Clean off of they head | |
| See that red dot comin from | |
| Me and my girlfriend | |
| Cause i wants mine | |
| I needs mine | |
| And i' m about to get mine | |
| At these times | |
| Look lil' daddy | |
| You ain' t got to worry about none of these other niggas | |
| You needs to be worried about when juvi comin to get ya | |
| Look, i make a phone call to the big dog | |
| Y' all bitches better handle y' all business before i hit y' all | |
| Even though a nigga rich and i rock ice | |
| I still bust a nigga head on the block aright | |
| chorus 2x juvenile lil' wayne | |
| juvenile | |
| It' s enemy turf that i' m on | |
| So i' ma play it how it go | |
| Cock the hollow points | |
| And tote my black calico | |
| My lil' brother weezy | |
| lil' wayne | |
| My big brother juvi | |
| Both hit tha blocks | |
| Strapped up with the uzis | |
| Verse 2 lil' wayne | |
| What, what, la | |
| Gun for gun | |
| Eye for eye | |
| Better move yo' wife and son | |
| Cause i ride or die | |
| Cash money hot boy | |
| Bless me when i' m gone | |
| But until then load up the chrome cause it' s on | |
| I been bout it | |
| Put a boot up in my lip and put my dirty up in a clip | |
| I drop the top and then i flip i hit his cock and make ' em flip | |
| And i be full of that trash | |
| I be the first one to jump out the jag bust at ' em fast | |
| Watch the bullets chop off the head | |
| And make ' em fall in the grass | |
| One move they all die | |
| Lil' weezy small fry | |
| Guerilla when it' s war time | |
| Y' all better learn | |
| When this nigga shoot it' ll be all hell | |
| Well then let ' em burn | |
| Hold ' em fo' ransom, hear me smart boy | |
| Seven churn and i be damn if i let ' em go | |
| If i don' t get my dough | |
| Then hell will be all blowin' | |
| Til i r. i. p., c. m. b. i be | |
| I put it down for all my peeps | |
| Nigga, i' m h. b. for real | |
| chorus 2x | |
| Verse 3 | |
| All i know is the streets | |
| And how to strap up | |
| When it' s time shoot it | |
| Cock yo' heaters | |
| Tie up yo' bags | |
| It' s time to do it | |
| Blaze the blunt | |
| Shut off the lights | |
| And cut down the music | |
| Roll down the windows | |
| Turn the corner | |
| And let loose with the bbbbrrrrrr | |
| If ya don' t know now | |
| Then ya never will learn | |
| You ca play with lil' wayne | |
| And yo' block get burned | |
| You must love to go swimmin | |
| Cause tha water gets deeper | |
| See i bust you wide open | |
| And take ' ya daughter with me | |
| Here come the beat boy | |
| Shoot out the street lights | |
| Time to bring on the heat boy | |
| If you ain' t really wit it | |
| Then you better get back | |
| I open yo' chest | |
| And make it look just like a wet cat | |
| This is a death trap | |
| I' ma a guerilla and i mean it | |
| Leave ya' head still in a beanin' | |
| Lyin' on the cement | |
| Calicoe steamin' | |
| Red dot beamin' | |
| Dressed up suspicious | |
| Play wit lil' weezy, you' ll be dinner for tha fishes | |
| chorus 2x | |
| Enemy turf | |
| Time to strap up | |
| What |
| zuò cí : Edwards, Gray | |
| juvenile | |
| Ah hmmm hmmmm | |
| Hmmmm hmmm | |
| Verse 1 juvenile | |
| When i say i don' t give a fuck | |
| I mean that yeah | |
| Niggaz brains is gettin bust | |
| I didn' t say that yeah | |
| If a shipment was comin in | |
| I need a haul of dat wodie | |
| I need a sixtyforty nigga | |
| And no chargin' that wodie | |
| You done heard about michael jackson | |
| And shiggidy shit | |
| But you ain' t never heard about me | |
| When i' m flissin a bitch | |
| Niggas shoulders gettin knocked | |
| Clean off of they head | |
| See that red dot comin from | |
| Me and my girlfriend | |
| Cause i wants mine | |
| I needs mine | |
| And i' m about to get mine | |
| At these times | |
| Look lil' daddy | |
| You ain' t got to worry about none of these other niggas | |
| You needs to be worried about when juvi comin to get ya | |
| Look, i make a phone call to the big dog | |
| Y' all bitches better handle y' all business before i hit y' all | |
| Even though a nigga rich and i rock ice | |
| I still bust a nigga head on the block aright | |
| chorus 2x juvenile lil' wayne | |
| juvenile | |
| It' s enemy turf that i' m on | |
| So i' ma play it how it go | |
| Cock the hollow points | |
| And tote my black calico | |
| My lil' brother weezy | |
| lil' wayne | |
| My big brother juvi | |
| Both hit tha blocks | |
| Strapped up with the uzis | |
| Verse 2 lil' wayne | |
| What, what, la | |
| Gun for gun | |
| Eye for eye | |
| Better move yo' wife and son | |
| Cause i ride or die | |
| Cash money hot boy | |
| Bless me when i' m gone | |
| But until then load up the chrome cause it' s on | |
| I been bout it | |
| Put a boot up in my lip and put my dirty up in a clip | |
| I drop the top and then i flip i hit his cock and make ' em flip | |
| And i be full of that trash | |
| I be the first one to jump out the jag bust at ' em fast | |
| Watch the bullets chop off the head | |
| And make ' em fall in the grass | |
| One move they all die | |
| Lil' weezy small fry | |
| Guerilla when it' s war time | |
| Y' all better learn | |
| When this nigga shoot it' ll be all hell | |
| Well then let ' em burn | |
| Hold ' em fo' ransom, hear me smart boy | |
| Seven churn and i be damn if i let ' em go | |
| If i don' t get my dough | |
| Then hell will be all blowin' | |
| Til i r. i. p., c. m. b. i be | |
| I put it down for all my peeps | |
| Nigga, i' m h. b. for real | |
| chorus 2x | |
| Verse 3 | |
| All i know is the streets | |
| And how to strap up | |
| When it' s time shoot it | |
| Cock yo' heaters | |
| Tie up yo' bags | |
| It' s time to do it | |
| Blaze the blunt | |
| Shut off the lights | |
| And cut down the music | |
| Roll down the windows | |
| Turn the corner | |
| And let loose with the bbbbrrrrrr | |
| If ya don' t know now | |
| Then ya never will learn | |
| You ca play with lil' wayne | |
| And yo' block get burned | |
| You must love to go swimmin | |
| Cause tha water gets deeper | |
| See i bust you wide open | |
| And take ' ya daughter with me | |
| Here come the beat boy | |
| Shoot out the street lights | |
| Time to bring on the heat boy | |
| If you ain' t really wit it | |
| Then you better get back | |
| I open yo' chest | |
| And make it look just like a wet cat | |
| This is a death trap | |
| I' ma a guerilla and i mean it | |
| Leave ya' head still in a beanin' | |
| Lyin' on the cement | |
| Calicoe steamin' | |
| Red dot beamin' | |
| Dressed up suspicious | |
| Play wit lil' weezy, you' ll be dinner for tha fishes | |
| chorus 2x | |
| Enemy turf | |
| Time to strap up | |
| What |
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