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Shyne
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For the Record
Lyricist:Jamal Barrow, Leroy Edwards, J Hutchins, L Smith, C Thompson, Michael Tyler
Where it at, where it at Where it at, where it at Where it at, where it at
Oh do he rhyme with a slug from the shots in his face or Do he rhyme wit a slug tryin' to sound like mase? Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like cake Maybe I'm just killin', maybe he just snitchin'
See a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton I see is straight bird, straight girl Yea he be a killa,you kill the words you gotta look at the facts and not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knife-d? Who keep gettin' struck, but don't neva strike? Hope the beef go away but the feds indict I know yo card nigga, it's so clear
You just wanna sell records you don't want warfare You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide 'Cause niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times Hey it's just for the record take this mob shit serious, please respect it
Hear we go with shots that rip 'em apart 'Cause it's a blood comin' outta his heart It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life
Muhfuckaz as me how I sleep at night Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights
You ain't kill Homa 'cause if you did Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit You know I know, that if you live That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut You a boxer nigga, nobody got shot Nobody got crushed, you screamin' what what Okay okay killa you suck
Tinkerbelle, enough is enough it's time to show 'em who's who And what is what I mean how can I respect you When them niggaz that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin' songs Please no more ghetto Quran You got money now it's time to bomb And that's just from the time Take this mob shit serious please respect it
Hear that boy the shots they rip 'em apart Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 'Cause it's a blood comin' outta his heart Hear that boy the shots they rip 'em apart 'Cause it's a blood comin' outta his heart
Death of perfection as I move without motion Ain't no nigga in his game doin' the shit that I'm quotin' Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see another of me Might be sum otha G's tryina trace and color me
But I believe in the ways of old When I slit a fools throat tryna tell on po That shouldn't exist, fuckin' snitch Cut off his dick, put it on his lips
You really think I was gon' let you slide Fuckin' wit me you must be outcho mind You really think jail was gon' make thinks right Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life
I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggaz talkin' 'bout po I was like oh, God must be ready for this nigga to go Gangland this is the mob you got yo break come finish yo job Just don't get the feds involved and I'm a reunite you wit yo moms rip
I guess this ain't just music 'Cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless And the bitch nigga knew this that's why he tryed to sign me to G-unit Tell 'em how you made me offers I don't run with that blood I'm a godfather
Loved on every street, conquered streets Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor The feds I paid for that ten years up top Not seven months shop
I walked the yard with blood Took the bus with 'cause went gun for gun I earned my lug you, you just pathetic You will neva be G, despite yo efforts Take this mob shit serious, you gon' respect it Tha's just for the record
Hear we go with the shots that rip 'em apart 'Cause it's a blood comin' outta his heart It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life
Muhfuckaz as me how I sleep at night Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight Pray to God while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights
Turn off the lights Turn off the lights Turn off the lights Turn off the lights
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