Pussy M.F's lyrics

Song information

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

Lyrics

Chorus4x
So you say you want it but
If you really want it you
Gots to come and get it you
Pussy mother fucker!

Verse 1:

I fight fire with fire
Seekin rides with fire
Totin k's and 9's
If you try to fuck nigga you dyin
Its like cops and robbers
Come and cop, ill rob ya
Goin to shops sellin bags of weed
And dubbly blocks
X pops some bottles
He'll tell ya we got'em
Just a million sheet rocks
And some of that baby powder
Breaker breaker 1-9
Dade county for lyin
If you drop a dime for testifyin
Boy you dyin
Fuck all you motherfuckers
Bitches and undercovers
Move forward
Im goin over that and to ya brother
Who gonna protect ya then
You best to check it in
Sellin highs tye-dye
Dont come back here again
You damn backstabber
I looked out for ya
You used to be my homie
Till you put the cops on me
Oh boy its ugly
You know I gots to cut ya
You try me locker sucker
So nigga mother fucker

Chorus

Verse 2:

Im from a city
Where they tote blocks, chop rocks
Round spinnin wheels
And they'll steal ya car and
Send it to the chop shop
50 slab,?????????????????
Couple grams in my draws
We aint even in da club
And everybody tipsy dawg
Down south dope winnin
Ride I'll smoke wit'em
Come I'd watch ya eye
Ride by smoke niggas
Call me mista toucan man
I'll buy a new tan ban
Wit two k's in the palm of my hand
This show aint planned
Where you stand is where you land
Sprayin with either hand
We is a span like eagle's be land
Like peter pan and ????????
Rollin that reefer, holdin a lethal
Bell and a piece in my pants
And when I see them people
Im actually gassed and a jack stashed
In the mess with the cash
Pumpin that ??????
And when you see me my pants matchin my brand
Brand matchin the band
And the band matchin the benz homie
And when im creepin im sneakin
A bitch from france
So freaky, she's so freaky
She sleeps in the creeper

Chorus

Verse 3:

Hey fuck boy!
Yeah you, where ya balls at
I'll put 50 cal right where ya draws at
And I'll kill all yall
Make ya bald head look
Like a bowlin ball
I tried to tell'em, he aint understand
So I sprayed his whole crib
Like the orkin man
About this money and this damn powder
We in tha hood, we grind all the ten towers
Y'all put his ass in a pine box
Black suit, black tie wit da matchin socks
For playin wit my damn cake
I had yo ass layin still like some dead weight
What? what!
On the grind for these mega-chips
Flippin baked lays
And I aint talkin 'tata chips
Nigga!
If he aint real then ya betta chill
If he aint got my damn money im gon kill bill!

Chorus