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dj chop up - 2pac - cypher 4 lyrics
[intro: 2pac]
bye bye.. bye bye.. all you niggas die
[verse 1: dj chop up as 2pac]
every dj step back in this b-tch
’cause the chop motherfucking up’s back in this b-tch
nigga troublesome, once again a nigga back
new track, new raps, too phat, who’s that?
makaveli the don
the motherfuckin rap don
fuck with the best and get capped on strapped on
they claim that i’m gone?
but still i bomb and i’m still making songs
pistol packin back from the dead, i ain’t going back
release me to these streets with my fucking gat
say my name one time and i’ma blast on your -ss
mash smash crash dash on your -ss
troublesome nigga, 2016
you know the motherfuckin song sing along that’s right…
bye bye, bye bye, all you niggas die
[verse 2: daz]
[verse 3: big pun]
the harsh realities of life are taking toll
even jesus christ forsake my soul
please tell me what price to pay to make it home
take control, i’m making dough but not enough to blow
jo’s, they lust my flows, but ayo, i don’t trust a soul
that’s all i know or need to, these evil streets’ll meet you
halfway and eat you alive trying to survive illegal
i’ll leave you lost, mount you on a cross
whip you like a horse, sacrifice your life to a higher force
then i’ll stomp your corpse
it’s the bronx of course, recognize the accent
one of the last living still-in-action general -ss-ssins
catching any wreck, blasting any tec, smashing any chest
p-ssing any test; charles manson in the flesh
any last requests before you meet your maker?
sow what you reap or wake up
shaking up a storm, like anita baker
i’ll take you straight to hell and fill your heart with hate
incarcerate your fate in satan’s fiery lake, then i lock the gate
make no mistake, this shit as real as joe
we follow the k!ller’s code
when we come for you, tell me: where will you go?
nowhere to run, hide, i’ll find you
and and silence your screams
and even if you k!ll me, i’ll still be in your fucking dreams
[verse 4: tech n9ne]
now you can tell from my everyday ‘fits, i ain’t rich
i sneak with a piece when i grit (grit)
i’m just another gatman caught up in the mix (mix)
tryna take yo’ dollar and your fifteen cents (i grind with a pistol)
i’m a product of reaganomics
neurotic, they saying i’m it
just got up, inhaling chronic
the oddest, i’m staying honest
i’m ’bout to make it famous
so you can take that j-o-b and you can shove it up your -n-s
so i just grip my piece, rip-off fleece
out to take your lip off, chief, with my peeps
we ruthless – if you got money then deuce it
goofs get toothless, we loose off two-fifths, we useless
i wanna kick it but ain’t got the dough
sneak in the concert, trip, and make ’em stop the show
we gots to go! push me and i sock the po’
gettin the bail from my parents is impossible
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