[Intro: Obie Trice] O-MIX (cry) Back nigga (dry ya face nigga) "Second Round's on Me" (get it together) Kuniva, Ca$his (I ain't goin nowhere) Stat Quo, Bobby Creekwater (O. Trice) WHAT!
[Obie Trice] Niggaz didn't kill me, now a nigga's gone Can't, peel my cap back, I'm never at home I'm somewhere, with my shaft restin' on a hoe's tongue Sippin Dom Perignon while she sippin' up them newborns Yeah, bet ya hate the news holmes He probably somewhere, sippin' on a stoop, huh? Sippin' on a brew, plottin' to pop me later huh? When will a hater learn I'm too great on a song I push weight on the corner, send weight to the coroner When courage make him turn performer I transform into Uma Thurman, a dude's version Verses lettin' a 'perfluous nigga with no purpose Continue to walk this earth's surface I was birthed in hip-hop, branch out my services Yet, you tried to murder this nigga that's comin' from the same turf as yas, what nerve have yas Pissed cause your hustles ain't worth a shit I'm gettin' rich, I'm on my way to Hugh Hefner's, dig? With a bitch you in the trenches tryin' to reach it big On another rapper's dick who won't represent where you live Know you're annoyed but don't make the mistake I'm state to state in that Honda nigga, not an Accord I'm in that Honda G4 you would never afford And yep, it's probably E's when a nigga is onboard
[Chorus: Obie Trice] (Cry now) Cry now (Cry now) Cry now (Cry now) Cry now (Cry now) Nigga cry now
[Kuniva] I'll be damned if I let a nigga lay his hands on me I'll lay his ass out and park a Grand Am on him The city where the weak survive and the strong die Where beef collide, shootouts happen and hit the wrong guy I done seen the worst of the worst - and what can be worse than a verse about bullets dispersed up in your shirt The streets is like a curse, niggaz frontin' for a bitch It's like you beggin' to die, like bear huntin' with a switch A part of my heart is gone, I can never smile the same Trigger finger is itchy, it'll take a while to tame Detroit is hella Dirty, but the Dozen can fix it Resist and a biscuit will exceed the distance And bounce off one's home, hit and ricochet Off a kid's trombone right to where you niggaz lay Obie can tell you that death is just a few inches away Y'all shed tears but you can get your feel of it today
(Cry now, cry now, cry now, cry now)
[Bobby Creekwater] Yo, Obie, they gonna fuck with us this time nigga Uh, Bobby Creek, nigga
Laugh now, cry never, my beretta is a body part Hit 'em with just enough shots to make his body hard Now I feel like we even See Creek is here to shine a light on you niggaz this evenin' Soon as I get my call I'm right on them zeros, I'm leavin' Load up a clip and make it dark on them heroes I'm cheesin' Shit they got snitches on the clock, gotta watch what I sayin' Me buy a bitch a couple rocks and a watch? Quit playin' Back on my grizzy, my nizzy, nobody ran with me And for them fuckin' spectators I brought the band with me Halftime niggaz, and grab pine, you would never grab mine nigga The doc was lyin' when he said you gon' be fine nigga
[Eminem] Ca$his!
[Ca$his] Witness the art of war, in the physical Since raw coke was rushed through my umbilical And no words from Ca$h mouth is fiction Ready with dope clips, I'm never dissin' you My aura of war is raw to the core and the surface of the street, when I walk through the door, my purpose is to move up, pull tools, you purp'in Watch me overthrow the government with my determin' Plot of Bin Laden, soul of Mumia I'm prayin' to Proof, I'm "Searching for Jerry Garcia" Talk to my brother, gone in the streets of the D I'm totin' the K, at hawk niggaz waitin' on me You take the first shot then, "Second Round's on Me" And when you walk on the other side, me and my brother ride I don't rap for the plaques My contract's signed just for scraps to get you wacked nigga With a gun, with a shank, with a bat Take a slug through the lung, get it right, what, you wack nigga? I'm born crazed, deranged and more famous Clappin' down bangers is meant for entertainment, geah
[Chorus] Cry now...
[Stat Quo] Young Stat keep the gat on tuck Want war, I don't give a fuck Shot 'til you kiss, pucker up It'll lift him up, believe me you'll flow The result is your family heartbroke Lookin' like an artichoke, vegetable, hold stiff Nigga paralyzed from the neck down, my goons stick niggaz Turn soldiers to stick figures, hand on triggers Real life, born killers, we roll out like four-wheelers God shield us from back-stabbers and gold diggers Tipsy off brown liquor, watch me Obnoxious, broads call me cocky Poppy long dick Stat beat up the box like hockey Especially when a bitch ride dick like jockeys From the Benz, to the Range, to the black jalopy I'm the shit, the only one who ain't heard is Foxy Formalize the plan, no man can stop me Boss hog, Stat Quo understand, you COPY? You COPY?
[Chorus] Cry now...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
