Niggaz Get They Wig Split

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B-Legit

Brandt Jones (born January 13, 1972), better known by his stage name B-Legit, is an American rapper from Vallejo, California. more »

Year:

1996

4:08

307 Views

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[Featuring see-Bo, Celly Cel] 
be	-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 want to 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 
see-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 'cause 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 
'cause when it's on it's on site no matter night or day 
And you can't f*ck 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 'cause 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 
see-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 'cause 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 
be	-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 see-Notes 
Made the hit 
Got the scrilla 
Gone without a trace 
be	 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 
be	-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

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