Sauce Money - We Gonna Rock lyrics

rate me

Never send a boy to do a man's job

You know?

I think we got away from what the fuck this is all about

We forgot - how to spit

Muthafuckas is makin all these crazy-ass fuckin records

Stop puttin your dirty laundry out in the street, muthafucka

Follow me now

Fuck with me

[ VERSE 1 ]

Sammy Sosa slugger, hip-hop nigga, touch em all

Some cute, but suck em all, I say fuck em all

Eat a dick too, soloist choose another route

G.H. form now, go and break my brother out

Henny out the bottle, nigga, eyes low in the truck

Nothin but that good smoke, hydro in the dutch

Ain't no probably, Sauce Money, fool, got to be

Chicken eggs grits, California, call it Oscar E.

Everything I spit hot, baby boy, you're kiddin me?

Hit Flex with it, Stretch with it, then Mr. Cee

Marley Marl Sunday night, can't forget Kid Capri

Hit the turnpike where all my niggas down in Philly be

Just passin through, son, still many guns to cock

30 miles from the bridge where anyone can cop

Chillin at my bitch crib, sip plenty rum and scotch

Put it in the air for them niggas Biggie, Pun and Pac

[ CHORUS ]

Haters frontin in the club

Real gees show us love

Bust slugs for my nigga

(We gonna rock)

Anywhere we do shows

Come through, two hoes

Killers with new flows, playa

(We gonna rock)

Even when eyes low from hydro

Can't another brother cock-block my flow

(We gonna rock)

Can't stop our ones

Can't block our guns

Get your triggers

And squeeze for these Faculty niggas

[ VERSE 2 ]

Haters hate me cause I'm a big nigga with mass appeal

They can suck a dick with ghonorrhea and that's for real

Ain't no secrets, muthafuckas know I might clap the steel

Be ready any given time, I'm like grab the wheel

Let the window down slow, kid just bought the farm

Two chicks in a Yugo, damn, it's a false alarm

Not on this joint, Sauce usually calm with the grammar

But right now I'm like baking soda, armed with a hammer

Summertime comin, now they wonder what I drive next

Represent for big niggas, 3-4-5-X

Wide body jeeps, little dimes puff the herb slow

Know the drill, bubblegum, rubbers in the 3rd row

SUV tinted out, frontin on the hands-free

Real gees happy for me, haters like 'it can't be'

Fighter and a lover, worst enemy or your brother

Just don't forget to call me Dad too cause I'm a motherfucker

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 3 ]

I know bitches who love Sauce for the dicko, straight Gorilla

Fatally, more than likely take at least eight to kill a-

ddicted to my flow, doggy style ain't the way I make my scrilla

[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], those my niggas

Hit the club half-cocked, niggas shoulda knew me better

Jim Star dillinger, that's under my Gucci sweater

Through the crowd thugged out, took my stance and I spit

Screamed on this one chick like, "Bitch, dance to my shit"

Part the club with elbows, bump a nigga, love that

Nigga read my eyes and it said 'step the fuck back'

This Gorilla Hill shit, we don't give two fucks

On Gorilla Hill, kid, you tryin to do too much

Must've had a sixth sense, how he knew I clutch chrome?

Probably this a big bitch, front and left his nuts home

Fuck that weak Gotti shit, nigga, let your shotie spit

Sauce Muthafuckin, get your punk-ass body whipped

[ CHORUS ] (3x)

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