Freeway - Don't Cross The Line lyrics

rate me

The name F-R-Double the E

The gat hack, are, end where the cops'll clip

Back, flip, hands spring semi your V

You callin' all, and run to the cops

Don't make me wet y'all, with what's under the t-shirt

The heat hurt, blew off ya front porch, your backyard

Ya'll niggaz like dicks, pause

Thick jaws, act hard, so they keep squirting

I move work often, like when New York couldn't beat Boston

Controllin' the nets, I float on ya block

Hop out, post up, move rocks often

Shut the shot down, pass it to Chris

If your boss got twelve on the neck, ten in the arm

And my gat at the end of my arms, hittin' the clip prick

Flippin' ya vet, causin' you harm, nigga

Ya'll need a place of respect, we runnin' shit

The name F-R-Double the E, tell 'em

Don't really wanna cross the line and

I don't wanna have to tell ya twice, and

Trick, R-O-C bring trouble your way

W-A-to the Y, tell 'em

Lean back, don't slow up

Freeway gets no love

Trick, R-O-C bring trouble this parts

F-R-E, bubble the ride, and in all

Came from takin' the trip, stuffin' the ride, yea

I'ma ride it on every of your ride

Caught in every broad or market, park it, hop out in deer crew

The heat is on perfect, tuckin' the linin'

I'm fine and trynna get some tickets for sliding

Freeway's in full effect

And all these bitches want some millions just to hear my rhyme

And I don't gotta boss 'em to give nectar

The boy give check-ups, I get neck, when I don't ask

When mami's with the ax, make my baby momma ask

Look, that's the crime, and I

Don't wanna force y'all to give checks, uh

Without tax, Freeway shoot ya from ya head to ya toe

From ya toes to ya neck

That's what the boy brought, extra large

Freeway bring trouble to soloists

The sawed off split, get the fuck outta dodge

Know this, I came from nothing, so ain't nothing for my gauge to duck

You punks, get outta line, and I cock back, bloody ya tee

Pull ya top back, drive through at McDonald's

In front of Ronald, put ya brains on ya Big Mac, make

sure the bitch don't leave

I got a gat and a clip in each sleeve

With boxers, so my dick can breathe

Breeze through in the '89, delt with my boys with my whistle on freeze

That's how you know I got the block on smash

Act up, I put your stripper on freeze

Me and Sieg', like Snoop and Daz

Because tricks that fuck, couldn't give me the ass

And they roll up, light up, pass me the trees, come on