M.A.R.C.Y. lyrics

by

Snoop Dogg


[Intro: DJ Clue & Memphis Bleek]
Word up (Uh)

[Verse 1: Memphis Bleek]
I've become accustomed to goin' through customs
Pound in my pocket hollerin', "f*ck them" (What?)
I'm livin' that life that you only talk about
I'm f*ckin' them hoes that you only thought about
I spend that money, but you won't spend about
As much that I made off my last single out
What you think of that? n*ggas, y'all know
That I kill n*ggas slow and I live for this dough (Holla)
Got labels sick, I know they hate that
I'm makin' they artists push them dates back (C'mon)
I don't need tattoos to prove I pack tools
Go 'head and act fool and become dog food
Memph-Man, uh-huh, yeah, that's me
Same n*gga that don't give a— basically
And I'm still smokin, it be like that
Ya blunt went out, n*gga, re-light that

[Chorus: Memphis Bleek]
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Bleek, how?
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Geda how?
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Bleek, how?
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Geda how?
[Verse 2: Geda K & DJ Clue]
I'm finally put in the game, right where I should be
And the gat lay right where it should be (Ha-ha)
Violate, you be put where you should be
Have your family and friends screamin', "How could he?"
Walk the streets with a body on his back
Ride around in a V with the shotty in the back (Uh-huh)
And for y'all that swear that I front for rep
Only thing that I front is Os of coke and clips of Tef'
With a co-D that's a menace to the people
Yeah, we sold D and made a livin' off of people (Yeah)
Ghetto corrupted us and we taught ourselves
How to add and scale plus bag and sell
And how to aim and shoot
And I got brain when the wrist locked
Wherever the dot spot leave the tape
You keep actin' like you can't die in a blaze
And I let sixteen of 'em dive in your wake

[Chorus: Memphis Bleek & DJ Clue]
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Bleek, how? (New sh*t, Memphis Bleek)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Geda how? (Geda)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y (Marcy)
BK style, see Bleek, how? (Fat shout Carter Faculty)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y (Tata)
BK style, see Geda how? (B-High)
[Verse 3: Memphis Bleek & DJ Clue]
Picture me rollin' in that five hundred Benz
I got no love for you n*ggas it ain't no need to be friends (Clue)
I give a f*ck 'bout 'em, no need to talk 'bout 'em
He act 'bout it, I let the fo'-fo' pound 'em
The co-Ds, n*gga, no statements
Just shots, empty shell casings
No prints, Vs no tint
Phone, Sprint, six, no chips, n*gga
R-O, yeah, M-A
Realest hood and clique n*gga, comprende?
You b*tch n*ggas know I'm focused, right?
You still catch M-E-M locin' right? (Ha-ha)
In the black V, with the gat on my lap
Shovel in the trunk, go 'head n*gga, front
This M dot E-M-P-H-I-S Bleek
Coppin' out to a one to three, you b*tch n*gga

[Chorus: Memphis Bleek & DJ Clue]
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y
BK style, see Bleek, how? (Fat shout)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y (Cuttino Mobley)
BK style, see Geda how? (Steve Francis, Houston Rockets)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y (My n*gga Chris Childs)
BK style, see Bleek, how? (LaVar Postell)
I'm from M-A-R-C-Y (New York Knicks)
BK style, see Geda how? (Word Up)
[Outro: DJ Clue]
DJ Clue, Desert Storm
Roc-A-Fella
The Professional part two
Ha-ha
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