Enviar corrección: For the record - Shyne

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Letra de la canción *

Pshhhh pshhhh
uhh
[repeat 3x]
[verse 1]
ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face
he rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e
listened to his tape, this lil&#39; nigga used to sound like cake
maybe i&#39;m juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin
see a whole lot different when my sales ecliped
what i see is straight bug, straight thoro
yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs
rather look at the facts not the hype
like who got shot and who got knifed
who keep gettin struck, but don&#39;t neva strike
hope the beef go away but the feds indict
i know yo card nigga, it&#39;s so clear
you juss wanna sell record you don&#39;t want warfare
you don&#39;t wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
these niggaz would&#39;ve died if they shot me nine times
heyy it&#39;s juss for the best
take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it
[hook]
and there go the shots stay rippin &#39;em apart
cuz it&#39;s a blood comin outta his slum
it&#39;s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
when they losin&#39; their life
when muhfuckaz ax me how i sleep at night
pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight
pray to god while i&#39;m gone, is what underneath feels like
it&#39;s my work by the surf when they turn off the lights
[verse 2]
you ain&#39;t kill humma &#39;cause if you did
why you ain&#39;t get the pen after all of that hit
you know i know, that if you live
that shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
yoo pac&#39;s a nigga, nobody got shot
nobody got flushed, you screamin what what
okay okay killa you&#39;sa slut
think about it, enoughs enoughs
i&#39;m tryna show &#39;em whoes who
and what is what
i mean how can i respect you
when them niggaz that left you ain&#39;t none of &#39;em blessed you
(not nobody)
you know where they are, where they perform
bust yo gun, stop makin songs
please no more ghetto quran
you got money now it&#39;s time to bomb
and that&#39;s juss fo the top
take this mob shit seriouse please respect it
And there go the shots stay rippin &#39;em apart [2x]
cuz it&#39;s a blood comin outta his slum
[verse 3]
death of perfection as i move witout motion
ain&#39;t no nigga in his game doin the shit that i&#39;m quotin&#39;
take a good look &#39;cause you&#39;ll neva a see enought of me
might be sum otha g&#39;s tryna trace n color me
but i believe in the ways of old
slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po
that shouldn&#39;t excist, fuckin snitch
cut of his dick, put it on his lips
you really think i was gon&#39; let you slide
fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind
you really think jail was gon&#39; make thinks right
nigga i will shoot you till you lose yo life
i was mindin&#39; my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po
i was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go
i ain&#39;t lyin this is the mob
you got yo break come finish yo job
juss don&#39;t get the feds involved
and i&#39;mma reunite you wit yo moms
rip
i guess this ain&#39;t juss music
cuz jail only made me much mo&#39; ruthless (nigga)
and the bitch nigga knew this
that&#39;s why he tryed to sign me to g-unit
tell &#39;em how you made me offers
(i don&#39;t want that blood i&#39;mma godfather)
jumped on every street corner
hurts yo heart that you don&#39;t get that honor
the feds i paid fo that
10 years up top
i sell &#39;em much shop
both of ya was blood
took the bus wit cuz
want gun fo gun
i earned my lug
you, you juss pathetic
you neva bg, bespite yo average
take this mob shit serioue, you gon&#39; respect it
tha&#39;s juss fo the record
[hook]
and there go the shots stay rippin &#39;em apart
cuz it&#39;s a blood comin outta his slum
it&#39;s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
when they losin&#39; their life
when muhfuckaz ax me how i sleep at night
pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight
pray to god while i&#39;m gone, is what underneath feels like
it&#39;s my work by the surf when they turn off the light

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