Paris - Aint No Love

rate me

(feat. Kam)

Yeah, this is another story of famous dogs

Where the dog that don't keep it real is a bitch

These are rappin' dogs, soldier dogs

Harmonic dogs

House dogs, street dogs

Dogs of the world unite..


Bye, bye shitty luck, skinny ducats

High side, many bucks, titty fuckin'

Smash on these Corleones, snatchin' fetti

Westside niggas roam, but y'all ain't ready

Every city, every borough, every town

Every ghetto comin' through, we touchin' down

When I spit they all scatter, battle cry

Worldwide, it don't matter - who wanna ride?

Return of the street pros, kill our foes

Expose what you need to know, Guerrilla flows

Still on that same shit, same time

Still from that same clique, same side

Real niggas ain't impressed by the stories they bring

When it's all said and done y'all remember my name

Fuck a Corleone, nigga, we grown, now what you sayin'?

It's all about the chedda but beware what you claimin'


Y'all niggas really wanna see us dead, huh? We too militant

Always on that pro-black crackajack killin' shit

I picked up a few cuts, scrapes and raw abrasions

Collectin' my cheese and checkin' these caucasians

'Cause when you killin' niggas on a record then you goin' places

But talk about killin' these crackas, you racist, that's why

Crackas and flies, I do despise

The more I see these crackas, the more I like flies

Look into my eyes before I pull this trigger, I don't know what's worse

A black cracka or a white nigga, who should I do first?

I write a verse an' have 'em runnin' scared, turnin' red, protestin'

I just be blastin', don't be askin' no questions, holmes

'Till the smoke clear, 'cause folks here know

The difference between a G and some Hollywierdo

What you in fear fo'? Your life or your money?

All these coward-ass fake thugs, a/k/a/ Bugs Bunnies


Livin' and strivin' and diggin' the skin he's in [x8]


So I fiend for the days when the funk was king

'Fore these pop sluts shitted on my video screen

'Fore these Bow Wow Wow Yippee Yos and hoes

Before niggas street clothes turned to platinum and gold

Before videos made 'em all fantasy macks

'Fore blingin' we was singin' what it mean to be black

Now these bitchy bitchy boy bands causin' a fuss

And every nigga rappin' thinkin' thuggin' is us

I'm bustin' pro-black, comin' with rough raps, I catch these

Hollywood shuffles by they motherfuckin' ruffles

And rough 'em up, see, and fuck them tricks

'Comin' phony, all them cowards know is blingin' and Kris

But this poolside fantasy lovin'-ass wannabe

Record label Superfly nigga, eat shit and die

State-of-mind mentality is blind to me

See I'd die 'fore I live on my knees, believe..


You know it ain't no love, no love for these

You know it ain't no love, no love for these

You know it ain't no love, no love for these

Don't you know it ain't no...[repeat 'till fade]

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