Letra For the record de Shyne

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Pshhhh pshhhh
Uhh
[repeat 3x]

[Verse 1]
Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face
He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e
Listened to his tape, this lil´ nigga used to sound like cake
Maybe I´m juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin
See a whole lot different when my sales ecliped
What I see is straight bug, straight girl
Yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs
Rather look at the facts not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knifed
Who keep gettin struck, but don´t neva strike
Hope the beef go away but the feds indict
I know yo card nigga, it´s so clear
You juss wanna sell record you don´t want warfare
You don´t wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
These niggaz would´ve died if they shot me nine times
Heyy it´s juss for the best
Take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it

[Hook]
And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart
Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum
It´s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin´ their life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight
Pray to god while I´m gone, is what underneath feels like
It´s my work by the surf when they turn off the lights

[Verse 2]
You ain´t kill humma ´cause if you did
Why you ain´t get the pen after all of that hit
You know I know, that if you live
That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
Yoo pac´s a nigga, nobody got shot
Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what
Okay okay killa you´sa slut
Think about it, enoughs enoughs
I´m tryna show ´em whoes who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you
When them niggaz that left you ain´t none of ´em blessed you
(not nobody)
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs
Please no more ghetto quran
You got money now it´s time to bomb
And that´s juss fo the top
Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it

And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart [2x]
Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum

[Verse 3]
Death of perfection as I move witout motion
Ain´t no nigga in his game doin the shit that I´m quotin´
Take a good look ´cause you´ll neva a see enought of me
Might be sum otha g´s tryna trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of old
Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po
That shouldn´t excist, fuckin snitch
Cut of his dick, put it on his lips
You really think I was gon´ let you slide
Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind
You really think jail was gon´ make thinks right
Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life
I was mindin´ my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po
I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go
I ain´t lyin this is the mob
You got yo break come finish yo job
Juss don´t get the feds involved
And I´mma reunite you wit yo moms
Rip
I guess this ain´t juss music
Cuz jail only made me much mo´ ruthless (nigga)
And the bitch nigga knew this
That´s why he tryed to sign me to g-unit
Tell ´em how you made me offers
(I don´t want that blood I´mma godfather)
Jumped on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you don´t get that honor
The feds I paid fo that
10 years up top
I sell ´em much shop
Both of ya was blood
Took the bus wit cuz
Want gun fo gun
I earned my lug
You, you juss pathetic
You neva bg, bespite yo average
Take this mob shit serioue, you gon´ respect it
Tha´s juss fo the record

[Hook]
And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart
Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum
It´s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin´ their life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight
Pray to god while I´m gone, is what underneath feels like
It´s my work by the surf when they turn off the light