N***** Get They Wig Split B-Legit
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B-Legit > N***** Get They Wig Split
| Song Title: | N***** Get They Wig Split |
| Artist: | B-Legit Find B-Legit on Ebay Records and Ebay CD's |
| Hits (Month): | 53 |
| Hits (Total): | 101 |
| Lyrics: |
B-Legit: Bitch I got beam like Scotty Leave you spotty When I point this aim at your brain And leave them hollow thangs in your body Lodi-dodi I drinks Bacardi Gets dick hard drunk When I'm off that skunk punk And you don't wanna dance tingo tango I let my left right mingle mangle To your jaw southpaw It oughta be a law against these thangs I throw About to lay some shit down with Celly Cel and Bo From the Garden Blocc Hillside got they Glock Mack 10's Mobb shit'll neva end I'm tryin' to have it all So I ball 'till I'm gold Mobbin' through a sixty usin' cruise control C-Bo: I'm fuckin' wit that click nigga That big nigga on the block With Glocks, Rag Tops Cut thangs on them gold knocks Better watch your back 'cuz we strapped with teks Push up in a blue Lex' And dump caps to your neck Mobb shit Bustaz all die Leather trench Brim and two nines Costume of a killa At your bed side holdin' on two millas Uggh we bust them teks close range Livin' estranged Called insane 'Cuz when it's on it's on site no matter night or day And you can't fuck wit these Get smothered with a half a key Bitch Celly Cel: Give me the ball and I'ma fill the lane like 'Fenney Hardaway 'cuz I'm out to get every penny Any nigga disrespectin' when I'm checkin' for my scrilla I know'm stilla wig splittin' killa ain't no realla Nigga realla than me Mobbin' through your hood and takin' heads Slumpin' hangin out the windows dumpin' And shakin' 'Feds So mind your own Cross the line and see how quick they gone Head blown decapitated caught slippin' in my zone Fuckin' with this Mobb shit Niggaz get they wig split C-Bo: Uggh it's the murder man posted at the front door And when they comes I dumps with both four-four's Letin' 'em have it 'cuz I'm static Dumpin the grass Killed his ass And then kneel down and get my last laugh Punk bitch shouldn't have tripped Now he lay dead in the ditch Ass ripped Suckin' on his own dick Money talk Bullshit walk Fool this ain't no sunshine Three killas One garden blocc, two hillside B-Legit: This shit's fucked and I am tag teamin' with the murder man And that'll hurt a man Niggaz doin' dirt and All you got to do is hop your ass in my 'Cut We'll be back tomorrow mornin' Cell, you comin' or what? I got this gut feelin' About to make the killin' for a livin' The contract said the nigga wore a wire tap And they want him dead A hundred G's for his head And leave a bloody glove down where that body bled Celly Cel: Red rum is what I'm hummin' as I hit the fence Homicide looked for prints but found no evidence Stuffed his head in the duffel bag and zipped it up Them ballas want to see his face before they break us off a cut There it is cashed him like some chips at Reno Slid us a briefcase full of crispy ass C-Notes Made the hit Got the scrilla Gone without a trace B behind the wheel And Bo Loc cuffed to the briefcase Yo' nigga Cell got the chopper 'case they on my trail If it's a tail then I'ma leave a 50 empty shells Pistol smokin' These niggaz know we ain't no jokin' Split up the tokens And I'm back in the hood loccin' Fuckin' with this Mobb shit Niggaz get they wig split B-Legit: Yeah, like a real hillside strangler, yola slanger, tryin to get a buck but if I'm fucked in the gas chamber. The autopsy red, them niggaz had some heat fo yo ass. And never leave your block without your glock, clip and mask. Haters hatin but its all game related and that's what we do bitch |