noodles
08-17-2012, 12:29 AM
"We Hit 'Em Up"*
We ain't got no motherf**kin *friends in ck,
That's why We pissed on their crew
You scared motherf**kers *
Indian tribe
Ck Killers*
You know who the realist crew is,
nigg*s we bring it to (Take Money)
First off, f**k the queen of cc,
And the clique she claims
*when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be players
But We smashed your crew,
We bust on ck,
nigg*s f**k for Life
Plus Ck tryin' to see us weak
Hearts We rip
Cold and Karma
Some mark azz b*tches
We keep on coming
While we running for your crew
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little ck B*tches go ask you homies
How We'll leave you
Cut your young azz up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Mr baroness
Don't f**k around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly azz, off the streets
So f**k *peace
We'll let them nigg*s know
It's on for Life
Don't let the Indians*
Ride the night (ha ha)
Ck f*ggots murdered on Wax and kill
f**k with us
And get your caps peeled
You know, *JJK, Sam, JM, Yan, NYCPizza , Johnny,*Jake, & Lupo
Dial 911 when you see our tribe
Call for backup when you see our tribe,uh
Who shot me,
But your ck *punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of the Indians,
nigg* We hit 'em up
Check this out*
You motherf**kers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this thread
You nigg*s ain't even on our level
We're going to let our homies Boda, Iceman, Yesuispal, Dominicano, Eisa, DannyG, Johnno, Daniel, The Truth Hurts, and our secret weapon
Ride on you
b*tch made azz *ck b*tches
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Ck-daffy duck just got dropped
Xenoke *pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Ck-professor needs to get spanked right
For being a rat
Little ck weak azzes
And We ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when the indians serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole crew when We gank
Guard your rank
'cause We're gonna slam your azz in a pang
Ck weaker than a f**ken' block
We're running through nigg*
And We're smoking Ck mafia
In front of you nigg*
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
We push ur wigs back ever hour
We hit 'em up
Haze, Vince, Smooks, Fricco, Navi Ho, Max, Anubis, Twinster, Paul, Luke show them how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no thug life *battle
All you ck *nigg*s getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of us
You in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Sherm high
nigg*s think they learned to fly
But they burn motherf**ker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you nigg*s camping
While you talking sh*t to me?
We're a Ck bashing*
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Queen of CC remember when We use to let you talk in our safe house
And helped the b*tch *until she tried to take off her blouse*
Now it's all about The Indians*
You copied our style
Five shots couldn't drop us
We took it and smiled
Now we're here to set the record straight
With our A-K
We're still the indians that you love to hate
Motherf**ker We Hit 'Em Up
Joeycool, SIr Daniel, DonkeyBoy, Shaffy, Trev are from GB
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
They bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Mr baroness,
They'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Crack lize*is you
Cracked up or doped up
Get your little ck Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the f**k?
Is you stupid?
We take ur *money,
crash and mash through Crime City
With our clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
The indian Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake azz ck props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a Indian biter
Indian style taker
We'll tell you to your face, you ain't sh*t but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
jjk**We mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little ck-devildog' in a choke hold
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherf**ckin' joke
Thug Life, nigg*s better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
We gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigg*, We hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won*
We see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Ck junior whopper Mafia clique claiming to have 25 players with over 100k stats
Dressing up trying to be us
How the f**k they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on our *job
We're a hit squad
Killing their weak azz members
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah ck B*tches
You wanna f**k with us
You Little young azz motherf**kers
Didn't one of you nigg*s get some tr*nny operation or something
You're f**kin with us, nigg*?
You f**k around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the f**k up
Before you get smacked the f**k up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you nigg*s from Ck that want to bring it,
Bring it.
Twinkie, Katie, Vicious V, Char, & Mrs. Scorpion ain't singing,
They bringing drama
f**k you and your junior varsity mafia
We're gonna kill all you mother f**kers
Now when We came out, We told you it was just about mr baroness
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother f**kin opinion
Well this is how we gonna' do this:
f**k ck-popboy boy george
f**k ck wanna be menazz
f**k ck as a group, gang, and as a mother f**kin crew.
And if you want to be down with Ck,
Then f**k you too.
Ck- wannabe Grimey *f**k you too.
All you mother f**kers,
f**k *you too.
All of y'all mother f**kers,
f**k you, die slow motherf**kers,
Our*four four (.44 magnum) make sure all ur junior ck *members don't grow.
You motherf**kers can't be us or see us.
We mother f**kin' Thug Life riders.
Indians*till' we die.
Out here in High Levels, nigg*
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother f**kers,
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigg*, we the motherf**kin'' mob
Ain't nothing but killers
And the real nigg*s, all you ck punk azz feel us.
Our stats goes triple and four quadruple
You nigg*s laugh 'cause our crew got guns under they motherf**kin'belts
You know how it is and we drop u clowns they felt
You nigg*s can't feel it
We the realist
f**k 'em.
We're CK killers.
We ain't got no motherf**kin *friends in ck,
That's why We pissed on their crew
You scared motherf**kers *
Indian tribe
Ck Killers*
You know who the realist crew is,
nigg*s we bring it to (Take Money)
First off, f**k the queen of cc,
And the clique she claims
*when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be players
But We smashed your crew,
We bust on ck,
nigg*s f**k for Life
Plus Ck tryin' to see us weak
Hearts We rip
Cold and Karma
Some mark azz b*tches
We keep on coming
While we running for your crew
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little ck B*tches go ask you homies
How We'll leave you
Cut your young azz up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Mr baroness
Don't f**k around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly azz, off the streets
So f**k *peace
We'll let them nigg*s know
It's on for Life
Don't let the Indians*
Ride the night (ha ha)
Ck f*ggots murdered on Wax and kill
f**k with us
And get your caps peeled
You know, *JJK, Sam, JM, Yan, NYCPizza , Johnny,*Jake, & Lupo
Dial 911 when you see our tribe
Call for backup when you see our tribe,uh
Who shot me,
But your ck *punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of the Indians,
nigg* We hit 'em up
Check this out*
You motherf**kers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this thread
You nigg*s ain't even on our level
We're going to let our homies Boda, Iceman, Yesuispal, Dominicano, Eisa, DannyG, Johnno, Daniel, The Truth Hurts, and our secret weapon
Ride on you
b*tch made azz *ck b*tches
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Ck-daffy duck just got dropped
Xenoke *pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Ck-professor needs to get spanked right
For being a rat
Little ck weak azzes
And We ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when the indians serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole crew when We gank
Guard your rank
'cause We're gonna slam your azz in a pang
Ck weaker than a f**ken' block
We're running through nigg*
And We're smoking Ck mafia
In front of you nigg*
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
We push ur wigs back ever hour
We hit 'em up
Haze, Vince, Smooks, Fricco, Navi Ho, Max, Anubis, Twinster, Paul, Luke show them how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no thug life *battle
All you ck *nigg*s getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of us
You in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Sherm high
nigg*s think they learned to fly
But they burn motherf**ker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you nigg*s camping
While you talking sh*t to me?
We're a Ck bashing*
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Queen of CC remember when We use to let you talk in our safe house
And helped the b*tch *until she tried to take off her blouse*
Now it's all about The Indians*
You copied our style
Five shots couldn't drop us
We took it and smiled
Now we're here to set the record straight
With our A-K
We're still the indians that you love to hate
Motherf**ker We Hit 'Em Up
Joeycool, SIr Daniel, DonkeyBoy, Shaffy, Trev are from GB
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
They bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Mr baroness,
They'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Crack lize*is you
Cracked up or doped up
Get your little ck Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the f**k?
Is you stupid?
We take ur *money,
crash and mash through Crime City
With our clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
The indian Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake azz ck props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a Indian biter
Indian style taker
We'll tell you to your face, you ain't sh*t but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
jjk**We mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little ck-devildog' in a choke hold
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherf**ckin' joke
Thug Life, nigg*s better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
We gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigg*, We hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won*
We see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Ck junior whopper Mafia clique claiming to have 25 players with over 100k stats
Dressing up trying to be us
How the f**k they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on our *job
We're a hit squad
Killing their weak azz members
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah ck B*tches
You wanna f**k with us
You Little young azz motherf**kers
Didn't one of you nigg*s get some tr*nny operation or something
You're f**kin with us, nigg*?
You f**k around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the f**k up
Before you get smacked the f**k up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you nigg*s from Ck that want to bring it,
Bring it.
Twinkie, Katie, Vicious V, Char, & Mrs. Scorpion ain't singing,
They bringing drama
f**k you and your junior varsity mafia
We're gonna kill all you mother f**kers
Now when We came out, We told you it was just about mr baroness
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother f**kin opinion
Well this is how we gonna' do this:
f**k ck-popboy boy george
f**k ck wanna be menazz
f**k ck as a group, gang, and as a mother f**kin crew.
And if you want to be down with Ck,
Then f**k you too.
Ck- wannabe Grimey *f**k you too.
All you mother f**kers,
f**k *you too.
All of y'all mother f**kers,
f**k you, die slow motherf**kers,
Our*four four (.44 magnum) make sure all ur junior ck *members don't grow.
You motherf**kers can't be us or see us.
We mother f**kin' Thug Life riders.
Indians*till' we die.
Out here in High Levels, nigg*
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother f**kers,
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigg*, we the motherf**kin'' mob
Ain't nothing but killers
And the real nigg*s, all you ck punk azz feel us.
Our stats goes triple and four quadruple
You nigg*s laugh 'cause our crew got guns under they motherf**kin'belts
You know how it is and we drop u clowns they felt
You nigg*s can't feel it
We the realist
f**k 'em.
We're CK killers.