n*gga’s Like Us lyrics

[Verse 1: 8ball, MJG]
Rollin' down Park Avenue bumpin' Maze
My Caddy with them switches, got them b*tches in a daze
n*ggas on the gank, smokin' dank, goin' nuts
And all I see is dope and dead n*ggas bloody guts
Sometimes I go and click and smack my b*tch up with the gat
Or blow up n*ggas cars, cause I heard they call me fat
No I'm not a wimp, cause the pimp is in my nature
I got too many hoes bein' a raper ain't my flavor
I'mma dope seller, stick 'em up, killer or whatever
Game from slangin' birds, 211 or 187
Smack up my b*tches on the street that owe me ends
Learn from the start, in the game ain't no friends
Just a lot of b*tches with they hands out (Whatsup with that?)
Smilin' in my f*ckin' face, stabbin' me in my f*ckin' back
All up in my business, whatsup with my grip b*tch?
Steppin' up, one n*gga died with a mouth full of pimp sh*t
Whatsup with the b*tches Eight? Whatsup with the b*tches Eight?
f*ck me, suck me, jack me, 'til my diggidy-di*k ejaculate
Whatsup with n*ggas Eight? Whatsup with the n*ggas Eight?
Tell 'em not to f*ck with some n*ggas like us!

[Hook]
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me

[Verse 2: MJG, 8ball]
I'm reachin' for the pump and the loaded automatic
It's 6/5 bombs from the box in the attic
A phone call from Eightball let me know the scope
T-Money and J.B. had to scope a young ho
Not a true b*tch, but a true b*tch n*gga
We rollin' thick as hell so how the f*ck that n*gga figure?
His gun nor his gang is gonna be a threat to us
With one fire bomb one gang bit the dust
And the n*gga down with me said "Damn G, you didn't have to gank him!"
And at that very moment, he was askin' me to shank him
A n*gga ain't suppose to smoke a trick and get sad
And thats the first example of a killer goin' bad
I gotta take him out, if he live he'll confess
So Eightball you ready?(Yeah)
Shoot him in the chest (I got him)
One mo' motherf*cker dead over bullsh*t
Guess he didn't really know the n*ggas he was runnin' with
M.J.G., Eightball and Killa-B
Lil' Han and J-Smooth, T-Money and J.B
Lettin' these imitation motherf*ckers know
n*ggas like us stompin' heads into the flo', ho!

[Hook]
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
[Verse 3: 8ball, MJG]
Suckers can't get none, suckers can't get none
G, pass me my clip so I can load my lil' uzi gun
Eightball you got me covered mane?
Yeah I got yo back mane
Let these bast*rds know that
We don't bar no f*ckin' blood stains
What about my pimpin'?
Is it strong?
Hell yeah n*gga!
Got a lot of b*tches?
Got a gang, and it's gettin' bigger
Bigger than a Mack J, smooth like a 5th of 'gnac
Let 'em know we deadly G
As deadly as a hit of crack
Straight from my gun to yo head
Then we got ya
Cut a n*gga throat, naw that's another chapter
Kickin' ass
Makin' stiches
Smokin' bud
f*ckin' b*tches lipstick on my di*k
From the suckin' and the kissin'
She was kissin' on a fat di*k!
Could it be a fat b*tch
All up on my n*ggy-nuts, talkin' that love sh*t
Ain't no use in startin' sh*t
Ain't no use in tryin' to fuss
b*tches can't f*ck with some n*ggas like us
[Hook]
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me
And I'ma teach you boys not to f*cks with me