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m.e.d. - what u in it 4 lyrics
[intro: med]
yeah, the almighty, yeah
turn that sh-t up, come on turn it up
djs, burn that sh-t up, the long one to flesh
med, moves turn to dollars, back at it
check it out, bring it
[verse i: med]
i sn-tch the game by the throat where the money grip
spirit of a pimp, slap the trick, where the cash at, f-ck it and don’t kiss
i talk without -ssist with a gift to lift the audience
spit till the quadrant is empty out to prove dominant
all of it is supposed to go down in sound
you’re rocking with best in town from the ground
enough you rush from out of bounds, cali rock veteran
living legend, future, past, and present in the essence, we smoke till the resin
the lesson for the day i, medaph–r, came number one
when you was doing your thing, my job was already done
when it comes to the drums, i instrument words and finish getting funds when i get served after k!lling you
loose lip talking too much off that -ss you’re talking through
residue pays due, long overdue, here’s what you should’ve knew
homie, we another from you, smother confidence now when you loose
[chorus: med & baby sagg]
tell ’em what you’re in it for
beats and the rhymes, the streets and the grim, i hustle for mine
n-gg-, what you in it for
the love of the grands, groupies and fans, all my homies to p-ss
speak on what you’re in it for
these haters should die as bad as i can finish through cowards
we get live y’all, turn it up
get high, burn it up
act live, serve ‘em up
all hands, get ‘em up
[verse ii: med]
you get in with the wrong n-gg-
blunt split, hard it, cognac sipper, strip tipper
hot rocks spitta, invincibility figure, short temper
block menaces since they hit up we trip ‘em
cash and the liquor up, slumped up in the back of the pickup
it’s us, vernacular half tarantulas, sn-tching attention from your women
why you mad at us, don’t trip we pack heart
while you keep talking your mouth off, spark a blunt, -ssault of a thought
you should’ve started where you walking, it’s dark
verbal murder, words written in white chalk
only time i f-ck with marks is overseas, have you thought
i got your knees shattered like sledgehammers, then sent you for a walk
don’t matter when grammar, while i square like a clean of batter
flow pattern keep talented styles balanced, when you speak
it’s fake, i know you from being sweet as a peach
it’s all grown natural, tighter than slave shackles who taste gravel
better make some, or we’ll get that -ss handled
[chorus: med & baby sagg]
tell ’em what you’re in it for
beats and the rhymes, the streets and the grim, i hustle for mine
n-gg-, what you in it for
the love of the grands, groupies and fans, all my homies to p-ss
speak on what you’re in it for
these haters should die as bad as i can finish through cowards
we get live y’all, turn it up
get high, burn it up
act live, serve ‘em up
all hands, get ‘em up
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