For My N*ggas lyrics

by

Devin The Dude


4x[Hook:]
[This is for my n*ggas, this is for my n*gga-n*gga
This is for my n*ggas, my n*ggas on the block.]

Verse 1: (Freddie Gibbs)
My n*ggas bang, my n*ggas brawl, my n*ggas slang, my n*ggas ball
My n*ggas ain't trippin they play they position and handle the mission whenever I call
My dogs, runnin from laws, pimpin money from broads
You show me a b*tch and I show her this pimpin I bet you I get in them draws
Oh nah, Gibbs don't play with them hoes, he be breakin them hoes, hit the strip and catch a date for them hoes
Bout my paper neighbor, I expect my cake from them hoes
And if you pay it like you weigh it you can skate with them hoes, yup
My n*ggas don't keep 'em or cuff 'em end of discussion
n*ggas out here bluffin, mother had 'em, mother love 'em, motherf*ck 'em
Cause even they mothers won't be able to identify 'em
[?], had to fry 'em, hit them with that iron
My n*ggas don't talk, my n*ggas don't b*tch, my n*ggas don't snitch
n*ggas is hungry, fiend for chips, my n*ggas'll flip and run in your sh*t
My n*ggas got Ks, my n*ggas got MACs, my n*ggas got TECs, my n*ggas equipped
Man my n*ggas down to leave your body stiff for the chips
This for my n*ggas

2x[Hook]


Verse 2: (Hayes)
f*ck them fake n*ggas they don't know what loyal is, dropped out of school and started fights with the spoiled kids
Thought I was broke 'til I discovered what a brick was, 850 thousand got me big love
Tricked some, became a legend in them strip clubs, but I was bigger in the streets from f*ckin with them thugs
A hood rat's dream, a ghetto n*gga's idol, we the champions in the streets man we hold the title
Made more money off the block than preachers with them bibles, don't be steppin out of line that gets suicidal
I got a lot of killers, we got a lot of guns, no respect for sh*t, murder anyone
4x[Hook]

Verse 3: (Hayes+Freddie Gibbs)
Hayes the heroin man, Gibbs slang them the weed
You got what they want, I got what they need
These n*ggas bleed for the yola from Gary to Minnesota, hold the toaster 'til I'm rolling in Rovers and Testarossas and Bentleys without the top, what you got?
No patience and an army of hundred n*ggas thats outside waiting, for a n*gga to front, that'll get him Christmas treed
Lit up real good in front his whole family
Man, this ain't no f*ckin game, you don't wanna see me with that thang
Ducked off in a cud box with an SK and a Glock don't test my aim
Don't test my crew keep more protection than an AIDS clinic, trunk big enough to fit you, ten bricks, and a gauge in it
Yeah, hundred round drum in my [?], and n*ggas'll [?] if they get out of line
Pull out the llama, you dead where you layin, and bullets will spray if you f*ckin with mine, n*gga
I love my block, they make that hood paper stack for me, my mother proud of me, still think its rap money

4x[Hook]
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net