TEF

TEF - Comin' At Cha

rate me

[Intro]

Uh

Yeah!

Primo

Big money cow

My man Pos

M.O.P.

First Family

Ya know I'm go

Street shit

Yo!

[Verse 1]

Open your eyes bitch,

the hardest thing to accomplish is convincing the world I didn't exist

(HOLY SHIT!!!) Drama, blazing a 4.5 blama raised to uphold my honor

Who don't respect me?

Death be the b-k black Joe Pesci

Words to 3 ways to dead beat

Niggas got beef, to break some

I convert the whole concrete jungle in a animal kingdom

Shit the way I figure it

You only being called a Ruff Ryder

cause you'll be all over motherfuckers dick

You motherfucking coward

You ain't got siss enough to realize the niggas I Browns with

blow holes in your houses

Go ahead and put ya foot in ya mouth

Shit gets down and dirty I starts shitting niggas with hoods in ya house

And I'ma be the last man standing on the block poppin of a mad-ass cannon

bitch we on the planet

[Chorus: scratched]

(We comin' at cha)

(Killing 'em dead)

(Whatever the cause of this)

(I bring the pain)

(We comin' at cha)

(Killing 'em dead)

(Whatever the cause of this)

[Verse 2]

I got a good mind to smack you

Back you down and clap you

For real my skills the steel is factual

I could do drop, duck and roll

But when I hop pop a lot cock buck and blow you got bust into

God damn you

I ain't got enough money to hire hitmen

So I do my shit manual

I'm a hands-on nigga who don't mind gettin' my hands dirty

It's hard work, but my squad is worthy

And when we get it we gonna keep it

In this game we the best kept secret

And double niggas is the only niggas teph creep with

You know how thugs do

We block the block tryin avoid the avoid the cop

Packin mags with muzzle

And it really ain't a problem

To let niggas get richer than we rob 'em

And put 'em in a obituary column

We real thugs with dangerous minds

And a track record a mile long

Fuck commiting a-hideous crime

[Chorus: scratched x2]

[Verse 3]

See I'm one of them heistmen

In a car poppin mob-deep guns under the carseat

driving without a lisence

Fucking with hoodrats

Niggas send me out of bounds somewhere uptown

and wonder where the rest of my wolves at?

Whoever I roam with, whether I'm alone shit

Just know I'm Brownsville bound whenever I get home-sick

Whether alone or we creeped together

We keep peeped tucked under the lever

but to hold the streets forever!

See I was hand picked

the drawn steel would lock everything from the saw-mill to fair wind

Motherfucker it's a raw deal

New York is up for grant y'all I bust ya last nut off

and ya about to get ya power shut off

When the clock strikes 12

I'm a pop like 12

And the niggas on ya block might tell that they see ya

little nigga running down the street

dumpin the 3 time 3 millimeter

Holler and freeing me out

[Chorus: scratched x2]

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found