Artist: Scarface f/ Bun B (U.G.K.), Z-Ro
Typed by: escobar188@yahoo.com
[Talking]
Nigga don`t act like you don`t know who I`m talkin` bout
(Fifty-Cent piece drops on table)
[Coinciding With 50 Cent`s Intro on `Get Rich Or Die Tryin`]
[Scarface]
It`s your worst day, run and tell somebody
It`s your worst day.
It`s your worst day, run and tell somebody
It`s your worst day.
What it is?, nigga!
You don`t wanna get involved with this here, nigga!
Is you a bitch nigga?, you a bitch nigga!
Look at yourself and then analyze me!
This motherfucking G
I can see the flaws in you, you got girl drawers in you
Girl flaws in you, a broad nigga!
I peeped your whole hand when you came in
I`m a man and I hang men
Play the game to win
All men should play on ten
Scarface `finna do it again
Mash you nigga, smash through niggas
Don`t make me upstrap and blast you niggas
Once again, it`s only, its a must that I do it
Lock you in my scope and blast your ass through it
I`ma ruin
The image and the style that you used to
Cuz you don`t keep it real like you used to
A O.G., esa, fool to the hole fa`sho
So niggas slow your motherfucking roll
`Fore I come through with the same M-11
The Feds took from me, and shoot you in yo motherfucking stomach
[Chorus: Scarface]
You a Snitch Nigga, when you rat on yo friends
Bitch Nigga, when you steal cash from your kin
You`z a Snitch Nigga, running when the drama go down
You was bumpin at first what happened to the manly sound
You a Snitch Nigga, specializin` at bumpin` ya gums
Bitch Nigga, countin` all your bricks but all I see is crumbs
Snitch Nigga, ain`t you tired of running your mouth
Can`t even go home, cause a jacker might run in your house
[Verse: Z-Ro]
Now snitch fellas get up under my skin
That`s why I don`t mess with friends
Unless it`s my Mac-10
I`m the king of the ghetto, Z-Ro the crooked in the flesh
Looking for head shots, cuz snitch fellas get the bullet-proof vests
What you scared for?
What happened to all the tough ass talk
The way you was bumpin`, I thought you had a taste for asphalt
Look at momma`s baby out here starvin` for an ass-
whippin`, beefin`, with a magician then drippin` now his ass missin
I`ll be damned if I pull a rabbit out a hat
Well pull my 40 out of holster, and put a snitch fella on his back
WHOA!, look how I handled this .44
My conscience be screaming Z-Ro Murder Mo!, Murder Mo!
And these snitch fellas on "How I`m Living" try snitchin` on "BET"
But got a restraining order against "Murder I-N-C"
This how we ride, and ain`t never gon` make a switch dude
Z-Ro the Crooked, I`ll be damned if I be a snitch fool
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Bun B]
It`s Bun B I go back-a like "Atlanta Black Crackers"
I back-slap a, back-packer, from here to Cakalacka{Carolina`s}
Wack rapper, short stopper or dope kicker-inner
Bitch I ain`t ya chicken hitter, bring the heater get you wetter(get you
wetter)
With the 50 caliber magnum handgun
Step a bear off in his tracks, you better hope I don`t land one
If I cock that bitch back..aim it at your chest
It`ll be weeks before they even find the pieces to your vest
We releasers of ya stress..ease ya pain
Put this pistol in your mouth, you`ll never need them trees again
The one ya momma warned ya about
Bun-y he`s insane
Kill a kid over a quarter, (???)
(???), boy you fuckin with the triller
Z-Ro the young guerilla
And Face the born killa
(Bitch Nigga)
Feel around in the dark for dough
(Bitch Nigga)
You here the sound, see the spark, and you know
[Chorus]
