D-X-L (Hard White) DMX
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Browse Songs By Name:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
DMX > D-X-L (Hard White)
| Song Title: | D-X-L (Hard White) |
| Artist: | DMX Find DMX on Ebay Records and Ebay CD's |
| Hits (Month): | 42 |
| Hits (Total): | 68 |
| Lyrics: |
[Styles P]
Holiday Styles Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck if I ain't gettin proper respect I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill I don't give a fuck, never have, never will If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh) Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what) You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast [Sheik] Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye? I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT? [Jadakiss] Yo, yo, yo, yo All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick A nice house with five rooms, maybe six A town where money is coming, eighty bricks Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip Bet you never even felt the heat til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P? If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh) All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh) Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh) Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh) It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin your heart (uh) Uh [Drag-On] Creep through the streets For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off And take casket naps, fuck that You shoulda never let this bastard rap All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel No parents, tale from my horror's no morals Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em Drag done ate your food Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well I don't brag I let the streets tell Po'-po' now you see he fell [DMX (overlapping last line)] Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh) Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?) You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh) What the science behind that son? (I don't know) A lot of easy walkin I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh) Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?) I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon) And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh) It can get "Dark" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh) Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that Now don't act, cause actin might get you rollin with what you ain't ready to handle (UHH) All that's left of your memory, is a candle (WOO!) It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggaz Talkin reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggaz (uh) From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!) I'm DOG FOR LIFE! NIGGA! [Styles] [Sheek] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra jails and extra cops (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra pits and extra glocks (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra chains and extra watches (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra jails and extra cops (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra pits and extra glocks (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) They gon' need extra chains and extra watches (They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde) |