Letra de canción descargada de: https://www.albumcancionyletra.com ------------------------------------------ Shyne - For the record ------------------------------------------ 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 lilī nigga used to sound like cake Maybe Iīm 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 donīt neva strike Hope the beef go away but the feds indict I know yo card nigga, itīs so clear You juss wanna sell record you donīt want warfare You donīt wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide These niggaz wouldīve died if they shot me nine times Heyy itīs juss for the best Take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin īem apart Cuz itīs a blood comin outta his slum Itīs murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losinī their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight Pray to god while Iīm gone, is what underneath feels like Itīs my work by the surf when they turn off the lights [Verse 2] You ainīt kill humma īcause if you did Why you ainīt 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 pacīs a nigga, nobody got shot Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what Okay okay killa youīsa slut Think about it, enoughs enoughs Iīm tryna show īem whoes who And what is what I mean how can I respect you When them niggaz that left you ainīt none of īem 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 itīs time to bomb And thatīs juss fo the top Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it And there go the shots stay rippin īem apart [2x] Cuz itīs a blood comin outta his slum [Verse 3] Death of perfection as I move witout motion Ainīt no nigga in his game doin the shit that Iīm quotinī Take a good look īcause youīll neva a see enought of me Might be sum otha gīs tryna trace n color me But I believe in the ways of old Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po That shouldnīt excist, fuckin snitch Cut of his dick, put it on his lips You really think I was gonī let you slide Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind You really think jail was gonī make thinks right Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life I was mindinī my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go I ainīt lyin this is the mob You got yo break come finish yo job Juss donīt get the feds involved And Iīmma reunite you wit yo moms Rip I guess this ainīt juss music Cuz jail only made me much moī ruthless (nigga) And the bitch nigga knew this Thatīs why he tryed to sign me to g-unit Tell īem how you made me offers (I donīt want that blood Iīmma godfather) Jumped on every street corner Hurts yo heart that you donīt get that honor The feds I paid fo that 10 years up top I sell īem 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 gonī respect it Thaīs juss fo the record [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin īem apart Cuz itīs a blood comin outta his slum Itīs murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losinī their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight Pray to god while Iīm gone, is what underneath feels like Itīs my work by the surf when they turn off the light