Thugged Out lyrics

by

Tech N9ne


Yo! Let's do this!
Uh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Regime n*gga!
Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out
The Regime up in this b*tch!

Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out
First n*gga act up, first n*gga gettin drugged out
Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out
First n*gga act up, first n*gga gettin drugged out

[Verse 1: Yukmouth]
I do this for the
Real killas, and drug dealers
Affiliated wit Mobb n*ggas, and blood spillas
Put a slug through you tough n*ggas
1-800-Thugs-R-Us
No Dragon tattoo on you, n*gga
No love from us
In thugs we trust
n*ggas get rushed like hot whitend snuff
Up yo nose, I f*ck up yo flows
Leave my competition ass froze
We tag on they toes, I'm as cold as Pocinos
Enemies get tied to a pole, blindfold then I unload
[Verse 2: Tech N9ne]
Thugged Out, my choppers oblivion
Speakin the opposite of Carribean in Tropolis
Poppin my z-z in
True clocker from welfare recipiants
Type of a crispy
An anamalisitc 2Pac-er
My race Caristian
Jedi rhyme
The way I spits ahead of my time
Give me a Billboard, an you bet I climb
You mutha f*ckas
I love rukus
Thug, makin you hug crutches
Stayin away from you nothin but bum bustas
The empire is back an we bugged out
Phats, Keke, Maxx, Poppa L.Q., Gonzoe an my n*gga Yukmouth
These b*tches beggin me to come to menage-a-trois
But Muslims hear us say, "humdu Allah"
They fly, that's on the crew n*gga
You cannot block the Regime from makin knots
No matter what you do n*gga
Ya black an blue n*gga
Undercovers like Malik Yoba
Lyrically Nina's usin a force like Yoda!
[Verse 3: Madd Maxx]
n*gga this Madd Maxx
You cross the Regime, you get yo life took
We get it f*ck the good book
True thug n*ggas that turned to real crooks
Robbin the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I told ya we takin over soldier
A sober n*ggas rollin Rover's
Me, Ke, Gonz, Yuk, Tech 9, an Phats on ya
All ready wit the caulked gage, buggin out Oklahoma
f*ck a Corona
We drinkin 8-Balls until we fall out
If you got a problem wit the Regime, your souls called out
We all out for war
These n*ggas don't want no more
I'm takin over like Michael Jordan
An I'm the first to score
So f*ck you fake ass n*ggas who be plannin a plot
I take yo block over
Wit the nitroglycerian rock
They got us f*cked up

[Verse 4: Phats Bossalini]
They got us f*cked up
I've been tough
Since a young buck
Nothin to prove
Lots of pain plus some war cuts
It ain't sh*t, but a thang to me
Dangerously
I play the man you claim to be
n*ggas strike back
Gun fight, we had to hype back
This is the Phats see dream like a Fat Kat
They wanna funk, we get dressed in black
c*ck the strap, screamin Regime til they bust back
It's Mobb-symboly, I die you remember me
Tatted wit Dragons in a custom coffin Bently
Simply, I'm down to blast so don't tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an hella blown off the geniti
f*ck wit me
See these killas in mine
Buildin this shrine
To feed these f*ckin children of mine
Uh
Look in my eyes
As I bleed the Regime n*gga
(Regime n*gga, Regime n*gga)
Havin a pile of money machine
[Verse 5: Poppa L.Q.]
No I've never been to the pen
But I did a county bid
An I ain't dumb enough to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess somebody caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from dope over split wigs
Deadly lyrics to spit
Makin sure the killas feelin my sh*t
Explicit lyrics an adult content
Shot callas representin at all the major events
And gang bangin got the streets juss way too tense
I learned to deal wit it
I'm in the Fields, windows tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it
We keep puffin an rollin real wit it
That jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a long time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And rented suits from my tailors
Some young playas, strivin for greater
You know it's all bad
Let's make it all good
Pushin the Cavvy to touch the Navvi wit the leather an wood
It's Regime n*gga!

[Verse 6: Yukmouth]
The hardest n*gga from the "O"
My flow is certified theme music for organized crime
n*ggas that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for they pies
Reach for the sky
Techniques like Robert DeNiro in "Heat"
Karl Kani's
No disguise, in the middle of the street
Buckin at police
f*ck police
Got a Range Rove jeep
Wit 12 open faced gold teeth
A Rolex piece
Cuban Links, crops, an bracelets
But that ain't sh*t, to leave a n*gga naked, duct taped wit they b*tch
In the basement
Where the safe is?
Big faces
Cops raided, but ended up gettin they f*ckin squad car grenaded
You want blazed sh*t?
I spit the nitroglycerian
That's smoother than a pair of new cinnamon Timberlands
Get Benjamin's
But be no P Diddy
I'm from a city called Weed City
See these Regime n*ggas be wit me
f*ck Christy juss Remmy
True thugs do drugs an come up wit hits
Like Jimi Hendrix
Shock the world like Snoop at No Limit
Yuk signed to Rap-A-Lot, yeah n*gga
I ain't a playa, I juss mack-a-lot
Pack the gat
Tryin to snatch yo watch in the back of the lot
Keep my sh*t for underground fragment rock
Jackpot J struck it rich hit the Lottery
The top comidity
Blood on wallet be from robbin sprees
Rock Phat Farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet wounds like a n*gga fresh back from 'Nam
Yo n*gga get yo mash on {*echoes out*}

[Talking]
(How old were you, Mr. Washington when you hit the streets permanently?)
Maybe 10
(How did you live?)
I became a runner
(A drug runner)
That's right
(Could you give us a description of how you lived, the next few years)
I kinda moved up. I lived where the money goes
Then I got busted, 2 and 1/2 in ??
(And when you got out)
I got a piece of turf to myself. Took it. One block at a time
Nobody stopped me
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