Lyrics:
Yeah yeah it's T-Hype and the Born Loser from the Duo. Def Squad. Right now
New York Chi-Town 6-0-6-4-4 act like you know. 95 realize and recognize.
they stay in tha street
I'm only fuccin wit tha real niggaz, they playin fo keep
When tha streetz in yo whole blocc wit them 2
I'm old-skool ? play by
Tucked beneath my waist band
(yeah, yeah, yeah)
With a 50 Cal' on my left shoulder (Boom)
And a 45 on the right one (Bow)
Aim a 12 Gauge at your ugly face
MAC-10, MAC-11,
12 Gauge gon' get you acquainted with Heaven
My homie got .45s, it's gonna bang too
And his cousin got four 9s, and we brought them
Leavin the cut in a rage
Loadin up my mac, goin to my crib, to get my 12 gauge
One of my boys just got shot, huh
Fuckin around, in that million
a 12-gauge double barrel shotgun, I own a regular shotgun, I own a regular hunting rifle, I own a 9mm, a 357, a 45 handgun, a 38 special, and, erm... I own
a newspaper, keep knocking, I'll be out later
I know I had a lot to eat at the Chinese buffet, and iHop earlier that day
And I still haven't taken a dump
It's
the well-paid
But hit us with a 12 gauge
A skeleton's your cellmate
Keep falling until you feel yourself fade
Into a world where weaponry is self made
By people
a nigga just can't fuck me,
Nigga better have me cash,
Or I kill his whole family when the twelve gauge pump blast,
Now test me,
Never ever let a nigga
pretender ways
Yuh know yuh coward like (gyal)
Mi wi empty ah eagle inna yuh elder ears
Middle day murder yuh friends amaze
Bury like sand when di 12 a gauge
my dick sucked in broad daylight
Acting bad on the soil acting tough
Break your ass down like 12-gauge Doyle bluff
You know if, ooh, that's what
throat s*** I`m outta sight
I like to get my dick sucked in - broad daylight
Acting bad on the soil acting tough
Break your a** down like a 12-gauge
When we come they keep on walkin'
But my dogs ain't only barkin'
Y'all better beware of us
I'm eatin' chicken wings, mm, it's like chicken feed
Mm, I'm
there
The way it looks, you'll end up in Playboy books
While your man is in Manhattan snatching pocket books
Bugging and mugging with a big 12 gauge
Twelve gauge pump
Shot 'em all did the job, somebody got robbed
And Nip will eat the fresh like it's corn on the cob
Keep is real, you know I gotta keep
ammunition by my feet
Ak 47 in my lap, that can eat through concrete
I got macks and Glocks, 12 gauge with long buckshots
Two five holster round the sock,
me hype
But man I swear this shit is groovy
Talkin like a steppa
I aint seen you niggas movin
Ooo Its krash draggin through track
Hit the gas blowin
off in a silent rage
Fish tilled back to the Ritz with my 12 gauge
Gat smoking, I ain't joking
Left them fools on the ground face with they heads
the gauge
And then
You speak
Your words a charm unmatched by anything or anyone
Keep 'em coming, I'm coming undone
Say my name
Say it slow
Take you anywhere
that line leak out the radio, it was a long story how it happened
D-12 though, y'all better quit actin' like that wadn't my man too
Like I was tryna
eyes count to hundred I'm a get that load
5 6 7 8
Get to the bag I don't mind all the hate
Keep it hundred homie writing like I got that cake
Everybody
rhyme was a drug, I'd sell it by the gram
Keep my composure, when it's time to get loose
Magnetized by the mic while I kick my juice
If there was
gyal dem love fuck
Gyal dem 'bout ya plump up any man rump up
Found at riverton dump up
Pump up di 12 guage bunch up brain jump up
Knife first cut we mek
plays on the fade, slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast, other DJs say, "Damn."
If my rhyme was a drug, I'd sell it by the gram
Keep my
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