Lil'Flip & Z-Ro

Lil'Flip & Z-Ro - Da Cops lyrics

rate me

(feat. Trae)

[talking]

Thank you thank you very much

Now it's back to the block, holla

You know, we from the hood right

We use to running from the cops, let's go

[Hook]

Hold up shhh wait, I think I hear the cops

Whoa, it's time to close down shop

Hold up shhh wait, I think I hear the cops

You hear them tires, when the block get hot

[Lil' Flip]

I'm straight off the plane, on my way to the block

Instead of a Matchbox, I got a neck full of rocks

A gold Bentley watch, with three karats on top

You know I got eight clovers, with three in the shop

Nigga I'm straight from the gutter, too fresh to stutter

In my hood you rap, play ball or hustle

And if you living with your mother, and you over 18

That's a god damn shame, if you know what I mean

I'm still down with Will-Lean, cause he kept it one hundred

That's why, he got a welcome back piece on his stomach

My chinchilla been iller, cause I cut the sleeves

And most niggaz get X'd out, because of greed

I'm top five dead or alive, I need my props

Left Miami in my plane, I had to leave my yacht

And I try my best, to figure y'all people out

But niggaz hate it cause I made it, and I'm sitting on top

I use to run from the cops, four years ago

A hardheaded young kid, stealing vehicles

My best friend got shot, and my uncle got popped

The FEDs caught his ass, coming out of Little Rock

I pack a lil' glock, a deuce-deuce in my socks

When y'all gon realize, I got the streets on lock

And my new Caprice drop, plus I got a L-Dog

Nigga this is how I'm living, I ain't gotta tell y'all

I'm about my mail dog, they told me I would fail y'all

I'm a hustler, I ain't gotta use a fucking scale dog

I'm about my mail y'all, they told me I would fail y'all

I'm a hustler, I ain't gotta use a fucking scale dog

[Hook]

[Lil' Flip]

Niggaz respect me in my hood, cause I don't kiss no ass

I got my license for my gun, cause I ain't miss no class

Brr-ack now get back, before this 4-5 kick back

What happened to that tough talk, where your click at

I be in Harlem, with Jim and Cam

Or you can catch me in the Bronx, with Macho hoe

Or Fat Joe prick, you know I roll with them guards

We take niggaz off the streets, and give 'em jobs

And most rappers play hard, until they take a bullet

Anybody can get shot, it take a man to pull it

So what you proving, not a god damn thang

I peep your game, you just want fame off my name

But your plan back fired, cause I run the streets

We the new N.W.A. man, fuck the police

You better listen close nigga, cause I made this beat

I just shitted on you niggaz, cause I ate the beef

Get it, a fresh fitted with a button up shirt

I just add a little water, to fluffen my work

I got love for the streets, and they love me back

Cause everytime I get back, we all go get tats

And we all getting fat, cause I share the wealth

And I got the number one album, on the shelf

And we all getting fat, cause I share the wealth

I got the number one album, on the fucking shelf

[Hook]

[Z-Ro]

24 hours a day, the po-po's pass me

They know I'm legit, but I know they would love to harass me

Cause I'm young and I'm having thangs, and they don't like that

Especially when they see me rolling, in platinum Cadillacs

Or that Intrepid on 83's, with music in back of that

When I'm drug dealing I hit the hood, and transact in the back of that

But I be peeping over my shoulders, and watching my back

Cause now police will ride in bicycles in the hood, hide the strap homie

And you can't ride, if you got pockets full of crack homie

I'm not capping, but I don't play with my freedom like that homie

You know the word cop, mean Coward On Patrol

Back in school they were the ones that never fought back, they ran and told

Now they got the right, to pack a pistol and shit

That's why they pull up on the block, fucking with niggaz and shit

I even had to tint my windows, cause they kept on trying to peep in

I know they'd love to catch me smoking, and lock me up for the weekend

[Trae]

I guess they figured they could do us, but now we got problems

My niggaz specialize in murders, where it ain't no solving

Equipped with the gat away skills, from posting up on the block

Where these fiends be all around you, like roaches up on the block

Never protecting but they serve, collecting they change

From marijuana to X pills, drank hard to caine

But still they incarcerate, my niggaz for half a dollar

And these snitches working with em, so I ain't got time to holler

Ain't no talking on my phone, unless you in A.B.N.

Other than that you got the wrong number, cause I don't know no friends

But anyway what's the bidness, you riding behind a G

Suck my dick and get to worsing and slice the fuck off of me

[Hook]

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