Funkmaster Flex

House Gang
[Hook:] Me and you (We coming!) Your momma and your cousin too And hoodrappers just in love with you Know what we do how we do We do it [Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"] I said the kid's the dog Everybody dying, no lying Living the life of a circuit My enemy said some shit I'm rolling up in the Viper To wipe him, it's perfect. Rifle dispersin' (Come out your house!) This is a This reminds me of Joey checking concert quits I sound calm but in my mind I'm hunting you down Like you trying to climb the fence. Split your spleen while you with your queen. Obama take away my right to bare arms I'm putting a sweater around the uzi And walking around with it like it's my toy dog Songtexte You callin' me sober, so what, save the shit I done drink so much I don't even know what being famous is. The difference between the dealers and the A-list bitch All I know is I'm a hot sniff away from doing a play to Taylor Swift That'd be the day you haters wish That day I'm standing up at that platform at the Grammy show Dressed up like The Dream living a nightmare God can throw up at the shoulder of an addict I'm Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston wrapped up in the plastic package My only true concern is what I'm going through after rapping Maybe I'll clap your ass and just do life Fore I break in this new knife. All I wanted to do was... [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] Rappety, rapppety, rappety, rappety rap That's all I'm good for? Nah, I was that nigga that asked you why you in my hood fo'? Well then your uncle should have told you I'm gon' need that chain you wearing No hard feelings Though I'm willin' to leave you spillin' Like oil when they fuck up drilling I'm just playing the hand I was dealt We all grew up in a full house We border children This ain't no pokerface boy! Ain't no bluffin' All that huffing and puffing for what? You giving up something, either your life or that ice Back in the days the yaowa was a trap Scribbling raps up in my trap. Don't keep calling me this uhh, here rapper Mayweather with the left PacquiƔo say goodnight. You don't wanna box me pappy That ain't no punch line I'm like Rocky I'm a quarter of the Slaughter Four fourths of a New Yorker Aus Songtexte Mania