Bitches S & Bizness lyrics

Song information

Artist: Boyz N Da Hood
Album: Boyz N Da Hood

Lyrics

We gon do it like this
From the atl
All the way down to the 305 m-i-yayo
Cocaine capital nigga
Yeah, da boyz n da hood

The bizness is bitches
The pussy I keep in my pocket
The niggaz keep watchin
They know I'll be rockin my watches
Deez keep knockin
They know I be shootin to spot em
Weed boyz in da hood
Strictly distribute da product
My niggaz get slizzered
I'm smokin and chillin in pradas
Fuck a 9-to-5
We gon just do what we gotta
I'm in my chevy-thang
Everything runnin is proper
Don't come too close
Cuz I'm subject to up wit my chopper
We in da streeeeets (we in da streets)
Who got da weeeeeed, (who got da weed)
I got a couple keys
Wanna eat? fuck wit me
You don't wanna see me pissed off, (yeah)
Fuck until my dicks off, (boyz n da hood)
Nigga this is riff ruff

Well I don't rock a lotta ice
Cuz I'm keepin it slum, (I'm keepin it slum)
Six slugs at the bottom
Lock and keep em in tone, (lock and keep em in tone)
Crack rock cocaine
What we keep where I'm from, (what we keep where I'm from)
You don't believe me?
Nigga come and see where I'm from, (nigga come and see where I'm from)
Keep two or three heataz
Dug deep in my bum, (deep in my bum)
The police tryin to keep
The concrete on my palms, (the concrete on my palms)
But I got shit to do (yeah)
And I got bricks to move, (okay)
But y'all playin for 4 mil
You can git for 2 nigga
And try to play me dude (yo)
Ima putcha ass in some baby shoes
And I don't mean the ones that yo baby use
I know I talk about my niggaz a lot
But I'll shoot too
Give me somethin to nut up about
And watch me shoot you

Chorus (2x):
I woke about 6 in the morning
Gotta get paid
Fuck moanin and groanin
Hit the block
Get the truckin rollin, rollin
By the night time
My pockets is swollen, swollen

From dusk to dawn
We stay posted up in project homes, (homes)
Keep a plastic tone
Y'all want it bring it on, (bring it on)
We'll creep up in yo home
Hang you by yo bitch's thong
Said you's a guerilla
Say what's happenin king kong?
We real playmakers
And this is not espn, (espn)
Welcome to da gutter
Now watch this shitfest begin, (yeah)
I ain't no fuckin jack triple
But I'm bakin cakes, (cakes)
Plus my cakes more than triple
What that fag makes, (that's right)
Fuckin just to stay awake
Makin sho I never stumble
Grind it till my bank statement
Look like social security numbers, (exactly)
Call us cookie monsters
Makin cookie niggaz crumble, (crumble)
Catch a double-digit jersey number
If you fumble

I'm gon tote the pole
Lock and load
Shoot til ya hear dat bow
Take my time
Speak my mind
Like I'm 47
Gotta country slang baby
You can tell ain't us, (yeah)
We can kill too
A lotta us got dem feds at us
Still keep a stankin kitchen
Cuz in da midst of da 'caine on da way
Da crack smell durin da intermission, (hahaha)
Triple-beam, hand-held, hang-scale
Got some caine stain colored plain fingernail
Chrome black dish backed up just our clientele
Saw him walk a thin line but it's not a fat red, (fat red)
Ima rap for deez packed heads
Gats, crack sales, sex and blacks that wanna stack mils
Smokin on dem percocet
Runnin in yo house ramblin
Wonderin where da work is at
Ho's in the third still a-hollerin
Where dem furs is at
Phone in atlanta ring da family
Where dey workin at
Pay a chain

(Hey, hey, hey, hey, heyyyyy)

6:45 am, life's great
Got the baking soda
I'm cookin pancakes, (that's riiiiight)
Where I'm from nigga I'm the man
Take em out, break em down
Like a lapdance, (yeaaaaaah)
I ain't playin
I got hella choppers
All my partners deal
And they got helicopters, (that's riiiiight)
It's like my old job
But a lil different
(What? heyyyyy)
I used to work at church's chicken
But now I cook my chickens in my own kitchen, (what)
A kitchen fork and a glass pot
Try to rob if you want
Getcha ass shot

Chorus (2x):
I woke about 6 in the morning
Gotta get paid
Fuck moanin and groanin
Hit the block
Get the truckin rollin, rollin
By the night time
My pockets is swollen, swollen..