f*ck Dat n*gga lyrics
by Z-Ro
(*talking*)
Oh yeah, all the f*cked n*ggas gotta get the f*ck out the way
Know what time it is n*gga, Screwed Up Click
[Hook]
Man f*ck that n*gga, (f*ck that n*gga)
Keep running your mouth, I'mma touch that n*gga
Man f*ck that n*gga, (f*ck that n*gga)
You ain't heard about my state, we Screwed Up n*gga
Will-Lean you riding, (yeah I'm riding)
B.G. Duke you riding, (yeah I'm riding)
Z-Ro you riding, (yeah I'm riding)
Point Blank you riding, (hell yeah I'm riding)
[Will-Lean]
Motherf*ck you I'll rush you, b*tch I don't trust you
Like AT&T, my guillotines reach out and touch ya
Bust ya like a head off your shoulders, then dust ya
Pluck my desert eagle to the bone, then crush ya
See I'm a hustler, just look at my wrist
All yellow canary diamonds, looking like p*ss
Yo Flip, these boys acting sour
I got money and respect, plus I'm packing power
Stacking up dollars, n*ggas wanna f*ck with me
If it's hood it's all good, so tuck your heat
Even though I'm on parole, I still clutch my heat
Pick up the street sweeper, to sweep up the street
[B.G. Duke]
I got my serve, that ain't your mama
Smack you with the pistol and tell ya, I ain't your mama
I'm ready for drama, I sleep with the fo' pound
It ain't sh*t, to send my free lancers to your town
Ladies, we just ain't talking bout you
Cause some of these n*ggas, is b*tches too
And you know who, no need to say no name
I'mma gas these n*ggas up, like a tank of propane
They say we ain't strapped, they lied to ya
They say Flip ain't from Cloverland, they lied to ya
We got the mansion three kitchen, ain't lying brah
Mayback reclining seats, 'case we get tired brah
[Hook]
[Z-Ro]
Everytime I open my mouth, I'mma see talking sh*t
f*ck a rap n*gga I slap n*ggas, it's best you keep on walking b*tch
I represent the Southside, of Screwston Texas
Got my name spinning in yellow diamonds, right up under my Rap-A-Lot necklace
But f*ck some shine brah, I'll loosen your tooth
Better get wet ya with my tech weapon, and swoop in the coupe
Cause I'm a gangsta my n*gga, coming from the left side
Equipped with a pistol grip, that will open your chest wide
I'm the King of the Ghetto, I gave myself that name
Ain't nobody help me get rich, I made myself that change
Talking bout charging me twenty thousand dollars, to spit a verse
b*tch I'm a legend read about me, f*ck it come and see about me
Right now I'm at war with eleven n*ggas, and seven record labels
You can jump your narrow ass in line, and straight up get strangled
Z-Ro the Crooked, the gangsta of the Screwed Up Click
f*ck all that ear boxing, go 'head and lace ya shoes up b*tch
[Hook]
[Point Blank]
Watch your mouth now, cause what you say can bring death
One day you gon say some sh*t, a n*gga can't accept
Point Blank the Bull, a big chip off the old block
It ain't gotta be in Cloverland, to be a Clover Gee block
Boy we run this sh*t, Flip having fun with this sh*t
And you tripping, Blank how the f*ck you get a gun in this b*tch
When I see him nighty night, Southside gon be iight
I know I might do some time, just shoot me a kite
I write straight from the heart, so I shoot straight for the heart
If Flip said f*ck T.I., then it's f*ck that mark
Southsi' for li', till I flatline trick
Talk a lot of sh*t, but I can back mine b*tch what's up
[Hook]
[Lil' Flip]
Oh no, that n*gga ain't scaring me
Look I don't wanna hear about, your ass weighing ki's
This lil' n*gga ain't a threat, you a peon n*gga
Cause in my hood, I play the corner like Deon n*gga
Them n*ggas only f*cking with you, cause you pay em for beats
And I saw that bullsh*t, grill you got on your teeth
My grill cost thirty G's, my ice cost fifteen
Say you gained a lil' weight, if you drank some lean
Hey, I got beef with a n*gga that weigh eighty pounds
He wear my bracelet in the pool, that n*gga'd probably drown
Big Oomp got my back, Pastor Troy got my back
And you know, Ludacris got my f*cking back
Asking bout my whole team, he know I roll with G's
So why should I fear a man, that bleed like me
Down in Texas, we ain't feeling you kid
As far as record sales go, I'm killing you b*tch
[Hook]
(*talking*)
n*gga, now how you gon try to charge Z-Ro
Twenty grand, for a mo'f*cking verse
n*gga, that sh*t ain't worth a god damn wing dinner b*tch