Mouse
02-26-2004, 01:16 PM
go to my site from now
on...www.geocities.com/thugpix
Intro- {Listen}
-Bizzy Bone- We had to get
'em up with two guns, runnin' side by side with #1, but I won't drop my gauge, and when
the po po chase/ If they catch me barehanded, I'm done. Rip's gripping the six-shot pump,
so spill it/ Gotta let all me lead off/ Copper thought that he had me cuffed/ Little Layzie blew
his head off/ Get 'em on the get up/ The bullets, they start to get lit up/ #1 best start duckin'
with a gun already buckin/ We split up/ Bust a left on the double-glock and, where the fiends
roll up for rocks, and this perfect getaway from the pigs when I peel, and I hit the fences/
Rippin' up the trenches. I'm bailin' while they trailin'/ Better in hell than in a cell, and ain't
no tellin' where them coppers be dwellin'/ One had spotted me, picked up a piece and shot
at me, but I practice what I preach, so see the two slugs up in his body/ Got him! Run with
smoke comin' from the barrel of me gun/ Hit the bend/ Oh, what a dumb-dumb, I got
yum-yummed on a dead end. They set in, then they lead in/ They wanted me up in a coffin/
Cops from everywhere was yellin' and wailin/ I went unconscious from the stompin'/ Takin'
a loss, and wakin' up in that coffin/ And without no stallin', cell I was tossed in to be
arraigned at dawn, and lookin' in the eyes of a judge, he knew right where to put that thug,
straight to the cell with no parole, in the hole, but I won't budge/ Sent me to death row,
watchin' the time by fly past, but Rip'll be sittin' mindless, never spineless, in silence, hopin'
I die fast, but chill/ Never doubt/ Sleep on/ Gotta get away, put that on all me reefer/
Somehow must beat ya, so peep out the creep or the reaper will meet ya
-Layzie Bone-
Bailin' on a mission, flippin' the script, better check what the wind just blew in/ Better think
again, it's a preacher with a grin on a mission for revenge with that Mack-10/ Little nigga Rip
(We'll ...) had to empty out the clip, (... kill) had to pump them slugs up in to them cops, and he
made them drop, glock went pop-pop, going out like a thug on the double-glock/ Back from
Hell and ready to bail, time to hit the trail, 'cause they wanted my nigga fried/ Holdin' the
Bible, when I got a grenade inside/ The squad gettin' ready for the rumble, when I heard them
mumbles, pullin' me gauge and laughter/ Keep buckin' them faster, all I was thinkin' when I
seen them bustas scatter/ Better watch out for them buckshots 'cause them can't fade me
gauge/ Gotta bust some souls in their graves, so I'm buckin' him straight to the pave/ Can't
be safe/ I'm buckin'/ Little Ripsta, reinforcements comin' in fast and blast/ Gave my nigga,
Double Zs, the Mack-10, lettin' that gun-gun blast on they ass/ Gotta rip in them chests
through vests, Mack-10s, sawed-off eruptions/ Got plenty ammunition, them missin', listen,
destruction. I'm bustin', ‘cause I'm makin' that getaway, 'bout to getaway, niggas got to
escape, and it's never too late, when you dash and try to break, nigga, just can't trust the
Bone fate/ We steadily runnin', duckin', comin' up to the front door, barracaded, and I
pulled a grenade, tossed it to the door, let it explode, and we made it/ Creepin' through the
courtyard, saw Krayzie, feelin' safety comin', hittin' the fence and jumpin' it quick, from
Krayzie's Tech-9 bullets, homie
-Bizzy Bone- Well, it seems as if dem boys, Bizzy and
Little Layzie, done got theyselves into another jimmy.
-Layzie Bone- Well, I’d love to
see dem boys get theyself outta this one.
-Krayzie Bone- Sit as I wait in the smug,
rollin' real fast like a dog, and began with a rage, and the gauge can't let go/ They done
labeled my nigga psychotic, bitches has got him sittin' on death row/ Scopin' out the tower,
peepin' the scene so when my niggas trail, screamin' out, "one-eighty-seven," and bail/ Hell,
gotta get my nigga, Rip, out that cell/ It's all organized, how my nigga, #1, disguised as the
preacher/ Won't be pullin' no bible, mission for survival, nigga, so I creep the Tech milimeter/
Somebody done pulled the alarm, now, it's on/ Spottin' Bone, sprayed off the Tech, gotta let
‘em know which way was on/ We got gone, but them holice was pullin' up quick/ Nigga,
what's up? Quick, bust in first/ When you hit that fence, niggas get cut the fuck up/ We're
steady buckin', steady duckin', buckin', while I was jumpin'/ All we was thinkin' is, "Don't
get caught."/ Nigga, like me, get the gun, runnin’, gunnin', frontin' with thugs/ Gotta get to
the smug, turn around and we pump slugs, put 'em in the mud, and all across my face was,
"I'd rather lay in blood/ " Dodgin', now who made the gun blew, with this fool/ Bailin' back
home with my troops/ I'm runnin' with four crazy niggas, that's down with they niggas, and
ain't scared to shoot/ Now i’m rollin', no more than a half a mile we get stopped/ Cops
surround Bone/ We load glocks, and squeeze, say, "fuck all these roadblocks."/ Busted a
'U,' then put that bitch in reverse, and I hit the switch, then I pushed the button/ That boy
came out the trunk, and put it in drive/ See that Souljah Boy buckin', back in the other
direction/ Po po came quick, them heat up/ Niggas glanced at each other, opened up they
doors, and they kicked they feet up/ I jumped outta the car, had to jump over the hood,
'cause I'm headed straight for the woods/ My niggas, they followed behind me/ We getaway
smooth, a nigga made good/ Came up quick to the hideout, waited 'til midnight 'til we ride
out/ Hid a car so we could drive out/ While we waited, we all got fried out, fool/ If you's a
thuggish-ruggish thug, nigga, (St. Clair ...) scream, "Mo!" Took one of my niggas off death row,
now we got one mo' to go
on...www.geocities.com/thugpix
Intro- {Listen}
-Bizzy Bone- We had to get
'em up with two guns, runnin' side by side with #1, but I won't drop my gauge, and when
the po po chase/ If they catch me barehanded, I'm done. Rip's gripping the six-shot pump,
so spill it/ Gotta let all me lead off/ Copper thought that he had me cuffed/ Little Layzie blew
his head off/ Get 'em on the get up/ The bullets, they start to get lit up/ #1 best start duckin'
with a gun already buckin/ We split up/ Bust a left on the double-glock and, where the fiends
roll up for rocks, and this perfect getaway from the pigs when I peel, and I hit the fences/
Rippin' up the trenches. I'm bailin' while they trailin'/ Better in hell than in a cell, and ain't
no tellin' where them coppers be dwellin'/ One had spotted me, picked up a piece and shot
at me, but I practice what I preach, so see the two slugs up in his body/ Got him! Run with
smoke comin' from the barrel of me gun/ Hit the bend/ Oh, what a dumb-dumb, I got
yum-yummed on a dead end. They set in, then they lead in/ They wanted me up in a coffin/
Cops from everywhere was yellin' and wailin/ I went unconscious from the stompin'/ Takin'
a loss, and wakin' up in that coffin/ And without no stallin', cell I was tossed in to be
arraigned at dawn, and lookin' in the eyes of a judge, he knew right where to put that thug,
straight to the cell with no parole, in the hole, but I won't budge/ Sent me to death row,
watchin' the time by fly past, but Rip'll be sittin' mindless, never spineless, in silence, hopin'
I die fast, but chill/ Never doubt/ Sleep on/ Gotta get away, put that on all me reefer/
Somehow must beat ya, so peep out the creep or the reaper will meet ya
-Layzie Bone-
Bailin' on a mission, flippin' the script, better check what the wind just blew in/ Better think
again, it's a preacher with a grin on a mission for revenge with that Mack-10/ Little nigga Rip
(We'll ...) had to empty out the clip, (... kill) had to pump them slugs up in to them cops, and he
made them drop, glock went pop-pop, going out like a thug on the double-glock/ Back from
Hell and ready to bail, time to hit the trail, 'cause they wanted my nigga fried/ Holdin' the
Bible, when I got a grenade inside/ The squad gettin' ready for the rumble, when I heard them
mumbles, pullin' me gauge and laughter/ Keep buckin' them faster, all I was thinkin' when I
seen them bustas scatter/ Better watch out for them buckshots 'cause them can't fade me
gauge/ Gotta bust some souls in their graves, so I'm buckin' him straight to the pave/ Can't
be safe/ I'm buckin'/ Little Ripsta, reinforcements comin' in fast and blast/ Gave my nigga,
Double Zs, the Mack-10, lettin' that gun-gun blast on they ass/ Gotta rip in them chests
through vests, Mack-10s, sawed-off eruptions/ Got plenty ammunition, them missin', listen,
destruction. I'm bustin', ‘cause I'm makin' that getaway, 'bout to getaway, niggas got to
escape, and it's never too late, when you dash and try to break, nigga, just can't trust the
Bone fate/ We steadily runnin', duckin', comin' up to the front door, barracaded, and I
pulled a grenade, tossed it to the door, let it explode, and we made it/ Creepin' through the
courtyard, saw Krayzie, feelin' safety comin', hittin' the fence and jumpin' it quick, from
Krayzie's Tech-9 bullets, homie
-Bizzy Bone- Well, it seems as if dem boys, Bizzy and
Little Layzie, done got theyselves into another jimmy.
-Layzie Bone- Well, I’d love to
see dem boys get theyself outta this one.
-Krayzie Bone- Sit as I wait in the smug,
rollin' real fast like a dog, and began with a rage, and the gauge can't let go/ They done
labeled my nigga psychotic, bitches has got him sittin' on death row/ Scopin' out the tower,
peepin' the scene so when my niggas trail, screamin' out, "one-eighty-seven," and bail/ Hell,
gotta get my nigga, Rip, out that cell/ It's all organized, how my nigga, #1, disguised as the
preacher/ Won't be pullin' no bible, mission for survival, nigga, so I creep the Tech milimeter/
Somebody done pulled the alarm, now, it's on/ Spottin' Bone, sprayed off the Tech, gotta let
‘em know which way was on/ We got gone, but them holice was pullin' up quick/ Nigga,
what's up? Quick, bust in first/ When you hit that fence, niggas get cut the fuck up/ We're
steady buckin', steady duckin', buckin', while I was jumpin'/ All we was thinkin' is, "Don't
get caught."/ Nigga, like me, get the gun, runnin’, gunnin', frontin' with thugs/ Gotta get to
the smug, turn around and we pump slugs, put 'em in the mud, and all across my face was,
"I'd rather lay in blood/ " Dodgin', now who made the gun blew, with this fool/ Bailin' back
home with my troops/ I'm runnin' with four crazy niggas, that's down with they niggas, and
ain't scared to shoot/ Now i’m rollin', no more than a half a mile we get stopped/ Cops
surround Bone/ We load glocks, and squeeze, say, "fuck all these roadblocks."/ Busted a
'U,' then put that bitch in reverse, and I hit the switch, then I pushed the button/ That boy
came out the trunk, and put it in drive/ See that Souljah Boy buckin', back in the other
direction/ Po po came quick, them heat up/ Niggas glanced at each other, opened up they
doors, and they kicked they feet up/ I jumped outta the car, had to jump over the hood,
'cause I'm headed straight for the woods/ My niggas, they followed behind me/ We getaway
smooth, a nigga made good/ Came up quick to the hideout, waited 'til midnight 'til we ride
out/ Hid a car so we could drive out/ While we waited, we all got fried out, fool/ If you's a
thuggish-ruggish thug, nigga, (St. Clair ...) scream, "Mo!" Took one of my niggas off death row,
now we got one mo' to go