Midwest n*gga lyrics

by

D12


[Intro: Bizarre]
Yo, Big T, Bizarre
Midwest n*ggas, I don’t give a f*ck

[Verse 1: Bizarre]
George “The Animal” Steele mixed with Buffalo Bill
Nine concealed, I’m ready to die for real
Everybody, on Earth can get wet
Sixteen Vicodin, fourteen Percocet
Bad, yeah, spot it I get him
Doctors, nurses, hospitals gotta admit it
I beat a b*tch down worser than Chris Brown
Move the car into Illinois, how y’all with trey pounds?
Loud sounds, AKs start to click
(Pow, pow) Somebody got they ass hit
Roll kush blunts, got me elevated
January 15th, we still celebratin’
Guns and ammo, I got a lot of toys
A f*ckin’ lunatic, I shoot my own boy
I pull that thang, put two in your brain
Yo Big T (Yo), my boy James remains (Biz), f*ck it

[Verse 2: Big T]
I lost my mind long time ago
Not when I got shot, long time befo’
So I sleep alongside a fo’
With potato on the belt when they think Idaho
They pull my card, I’d have known
Shuffle n*ggas’ decks, which way I’d a roll
Masked up, make a lot of soul, [what I'll about to go?], so I ain’t liable
[?] made a giant [bald?], fire hit him anyway he try to go
Beatin’ me is like Big Baby gone rogue
[Why won't?] lane try to sco’
f*ckin’ slow, what else do you wanna know?
I got no love for a f*ckin’ hoe
Kick rocks b*tch, with your new boy drop kick, baby thrown in a mosh pit
[Verse 3: Swifty McVay]
Constantly sh*ttin’ on n*ggas, and I’ma pee on hoes
They know lyrically, I keep a diarrhea flow
And I’m exposin’ you hoes like a picture
You b*tch n*ggas be usin’ brass knuckles for dentures
I don’t call her, aim at their brains like a zombie
With a stainless steel and deranged army
I don’t accept sorry, your b*tch be grabbin’ on this di*k like an Atari joystick
A pus*y as wide as a garage with five SUVs in it
n*ggas mistake me like mirages till the beef’s ended
They love smilin’ in your face on some fake sh*t
All on their next n*gga's di*k, and they love tastin’ it
I just wanna brown-nose, the [cray?] on my outro
My vehicle is laced with duct tape and a [console?]
I drive around the city as crooked as [a Lanzo?]
Bust in yo’ crib and blow your chest through the backdoor
This ain’t checkers b*tch, this chess, you did not know?
I check yo’ mate and slap the snot outta nostril
I’m pullin’ your card hoes, motherf*ck that Benedict Arnold
n*ggas scared to come around and get bombed on
Remain frightened, like a popped condom inside of the vagina of a prostitute, dyin’ from the common cold
Quick to unload on n*ggas in an instant
That goes for anybody that’s ridin’ on that b*tch sh*t, f*ck you

[Verse 4: Kuniva]
Much love, I give ‘em pounds and hugs
When you walk away I hit you in the back with a slug
Your main b*tch is on my nuts, lookin’ horny as f*ck
Without wrestlin’, she said she need my cobra to clutch
On the roll with the .44 I’m packin’ on the bus
Baggin’ up a bunch of bullets like I’m packin’ for a lunch
Packin’ a punch, I’m Runyon Ave bred, get your mind right
Or get it blown to the back of your head, now in hindsight
Shouldn’t have never tested him, blessed with a curse
Dressed in all black like I’m grippin’ a hearse, a clever specimen
Captain of my regimen, take me to court
And we can settle out of court for nine mill is what settlement
f*ck you, the system, and anybody be lined up
Push your moms off the ladder of a movin’ firetruck
We the rawest, sniffin’ ‘caine, puffin’ trees
And some [deodorant?] and the fedora, grippin’ the stolen Taurus
Blaze somethin’ up, pass the Hennesey or get your mouth split
And your pops beat up out his button up
We be clubbin’ like Ice Cube, and get you jumped by a bunch of white dudes, stomped out with some spiked boots (f*ck you dude)
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