lyrics for bizzy "hollywood" and sylk E feat, snoo

[bizzy4life]

plz get me the lyrics for these songs

[Mouse]

-Bizzy Bone-Intro- Dirty
rotten, never forgot, noids plotin' and I ain't scared to say it, "I feel the Lord is watching!"/
Jesus'll walk a mile, give me a hundred thousand and then a hundred loses, but I can't be a
coward

-Bizzy Bone- Peep it, discombobulate your mind scrambled eggs and brothas
feel me comin,' I started gunnin' big, hit'em up in two thousand and trizzle, heads feelin' the
bullets and the death on my back (Oh yeah, fa shizzle!)/ Ooh, tell me whats critical, is it your
reputation?/ Anyone attack it wait for the incubation, now for your mother fucking information
Bizzy's a thug! I never expected to be accepted, shit, I was just sellin' drugs, reflect it in my
music, the people spoted the real, that had my homeboy's fautly, still they swallowed the pill/
Popin' the bubbly for this million dollar deal, Bizzy finally got his money, these suckas, they
want a trill, keep it real, good, bad and ugly/ Four in the mornin' lookin' under my bed for
Ripley's weed/ Oh shit, and thinkin' about all that, Ruthless, just keep your job, I'm a
Universal Soujah! Thank God! (Thank God!)

-Chorus- Let me thank the Lord, like I
always will!/ Never move to Hollywood, uh, keep it keep it real!....

-Bizzy Bone- Mind
on my money, my money and my mob and my Benz and my friends and my job!/ I still miss
Wish's Uncle Charles, reachin' the stars, everybody talkin' Bone breaking up, nigga, Flesh
behind bars, he the one that bought the tickets, can I get any realer? Baby I'm just the
realest/ (Noooow) back to the real shit, (Real shit) mental, methodic push the hottest product,
Bizzy through Ghetto College, checkin' out up out of College/ Man I'm not Eddie Cane, and
I'm not David Ruffin, and I'm not Michael Jackson, nigga, I'm a say something! I'm not
incompitent, never a pill fiend, I only smoke some weed, and sip some Hennesey, is that too
thuggish for you?/ Well if it is, I'm sorry/ Give me no Grey Goose, Gator Skin, White Marley's,
thinkin' bout all that, Ruthless can keep the job/ Bungalo, Bright and Swole, (Sweet Jesus)
Praise God!

-Chorus-

-Bizzy Bone- I could never even look at my nigga's girl,
never try and stick it to his babie's mama for ... nothin in the world!/ Why snitch, switch and
be a bitch?/ Man you on some bullshit, oh yeah, I don't want to be friends, who needs
enimies?/ So stay the fuck away from the Benz when it comes to your facinity, besides, with
jealousy you might get fucked up, but, with no KY Jelly, only movin' when God tell me, let me
man up and tell my story, (Because) it ain't no tellin' how many records I be sellin/ So who
you callin' pretty boy/ Boy you a funny man, a modern day Schwarzenegger, but im not
Running Man, and thats the only metaphor I'm giving you niggas tonight, that ain't even my
steez, nigga, please/ Show all the clones just what that thug life like/ Vibe (What?) I'd like to
thank you for putting me in your article, practically destroyed my life...

-Chorus-














.................................................. .........
........................................

-Sylk-E Fyne-Intro West coast hustlas/To the midwest
thugstas, to my west, west coast riders/To my up north playa partners/To my down dirty south
little hustlas/To my world-wide show, it's to my international playas, international playas


Snoop Dogg Mmm, I'm up early in the morning, choppin' game with Silk-E Fyne and
Bizzy Bone, i'm on the phone, tryin' to get about a zone/My eyes red, head back, kakhis
sag, blue flag, in a ninety-nine Jag with a forty four mag up in my bag/I'm driftin', dippin',
slippin', slidin' high, high we fly/Hoes on the side of me, they act like they wanna ride with
me/Come on, get in, make it fun/Me and y'all, two on one/Dippin' down the bullavard, yeah,
I know you like us hard/Call me mister gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, or mister
boogie-woogie/Bitches love to give it to me, so baby, give it to me, 'cause I put it down
G-style, L.B.C. style/Meanwhile, i'm shakin' fleas, makin' Gs, growin' trees, maxin' at the
Pound with my homies/I'm sure y'all got to dig this style one y'all know me, homie/Show me
love, westside love/More heat for the street, I thought you knew we came to fire it up


-Sylk-E Fyne-Chorus- Your style/I like your style's tendernous/I like your style's
silkiness/I like your style's, what a mix

Sylk-E Fyne Hooked up with my niggas, now
we's about to dip/They say, life's a bitch, don't even trip/I stay rawed up, ready for
whatever/Gotta beat a broad up for interferring with my cheddar/Wherever, whenever, i'ma
go get her, and see, we gon' clear to to poppin' them guns, i'ma get right with ya/They type
of chick a nigga love to have by ya side, 'cause when the shit get thick, it's like a do or die.
So fly, so stylin', and real peelish, so don't try to ride with the realest/Big Dog, Silk-E Fyne
and Gambino/Games like the casino, I don't love 'em, plus they don't love them hoes/So,
put a million dollar check to that/Pop your collar and tilt your hat/Where the real bitches
at?/Boss sir, honey child, I got to give it to my niggas and bitches that got style.


-Chorus-

Bizzy Bone Won't let no sucka vibe off me, I don't need no click to
suck my bone because my clique is just so n, n, n, nasty, to the Ouijia./Little Eazy died of
A-I-D's, you better believe it, believe me, I can see it/Still sinnin and endin' the dealin', and
ain't you weeded?/But of course, baby/Wantin my Mercedes, runaway slaves save me.
What about your babies?/Krayzie got lost like Big Wish for the big fish/Bitch, I done had my
wig split for the bitch shit, and New Jack parlay (Come and get it get it)/ Some cops come,
ooh, and the whop from Layzie, got glock, shot, shot, shot just like I got him, what?/I heard
Flesh was nuts, livin on the bottom, but I don't give a fuck/Local niggas can sue me, my
people won't keep they mouth shut/Snoopy come hit the blunt and feel my movie, what,
what?/Sylk-E, watch out for Diamond Little Mike, Mike's still shinnin/Hit the clutch, perfect
timin/In a search for guidence, silently riot, and the quiet womb was still smilin

-Chorus-


-Sylk-E Fyne-Outro- Ride fo my nigga/Even die fo my nigga/Deal wit my nigga/Keep it
real wit my nigga/Dont steal my nigga/Im stuck wit my nigga/I'll buck fo my nigga/So dont
fuck wit my nigga/Ride fo my nigga/Even die fo my nigga/Deal wit my nigga/Keep it real wit
my nigga/Dont steal my nigga/Im stuck wit my nigga/I'll buck fo my nigga/So dont fuck wit
my nigga/Ride fo my nigga/Even die fo my nigga/Deal wit my nigga/Keep it real wit my
nigga/Dont steal my nigga/Im stuck wit my nigga/I'll buck fo my nigga/So dont fuck wit my
nigga

[baddBOYY]

yo its "bb keep it
real;" "taking out the garbage;" and "vicinity," not fantasy!