Ghetto Symphony lyrics

by

Hittman


[Intro: Snoop Dogg]
Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit sh*t
Yeah
We got my n*gga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherf*cker
Mystikal up in this b*tch
Goldie Loc, hm-hmm
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh, yeah, we got something for the ladies too
Mia X, run this b*tch

[Verse 1: Mia X]
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator (For sure)
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler, I'm
Mother (Mia!) of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna
Get to clappin, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
Some of y'all n*ggas talk sh*t and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your ass, and it's still there (Sho!)
I cares not about your click or the block
I'm still that same b*tch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause, (yeah) b*tch on a mission (Uh-huh)
Keep them n*ggas by they nuts while you hoes be di*k-kissing
Missin the game, damn b*tch it's written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X (Mama Mia!), kickin off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the f*ck you be
WHUT? It's Fiend y'all
[Verse 2: Fiend]
Put me in the ring with real MC's, and watch em run for cover
And hidin in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve (Ding!)
Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on!
Microphone Don, walkin flesh, talkin bomb
Bringin harm, to the calm, and, come be alarmed
It's the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I'll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh, damn! Toting two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Oh, man, he grand! Loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans

[Interlude: Snoop Dogg]
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony

[Verse 3: C-Murder]
I be's that n*gga on the tank, always trippin never slippin (Never)
Have you reminiscin and missin, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalini b*tch without the Mos at shows
And f*ck those who oppose (Why?) we runnin them hoes (b*tch!)
Three-hundred and sixty-five motherf*ckin days a year
I have your fool staggerin just like a bottle of beer (Bottle of beer)
You n*ggas runnin from the cops, well I ain't runnin no mo' (b*tch!)
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, f*ck them hoes
I'm crazy, my nagga, but uh, I thought y'all knew that (Shiiiit)
Oh you ain't see the news? sh*t I'm the n*gga with the TRU tat
Ask my n*gga Kenoe, sh*t, I just don't give a f*ck (f*ck)
And if you run up wrong (What?) I'mma f*ck you up, you b*tch you
[Interlude: Snoop Dogg]
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh

[Verse 4: Silkk the Shocker (Snoop Dogg)]
Now would I come this far, f*cker, if I didn't sound like a hit?
Y'all didn't know what the f*ck y'all thinkin bout
You sound like a b*tch (Biaatch!)
sh*t it sound like a wish
You know when you got a motherf*ckin hit? (When?)
b*tch? When it sound like this! (Hahaha)
Or you fake n*ggas get enough heart
And try to bust a rhyme at this clip
f*ck around and miss, then f*ck around and get found in a ditch
Got labels on my dome, when they find I gross this much
Freestyle sh*t, you can tell em I ain't wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC, purple mask life, like Snoop and Dre n*gga
Y'all can relay it to a label ten times
Get a label contract for MJ figures
It ain't where you from; it's where the f*ck YOU AT
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm f*cking with that!

[Interlude: Snoop Dogg]
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal, get busy on the symphony
Errerrhrhrh!!
[Verse 5: Mystikal]
WHOO sh*t MOTHERf*ckER GOD DAMN!!
I keep it HYYYYYYPE, b*tch I'm THE MAN!
When the f*ck you ever heard somebody say
That they don't sing my song
Or that I don't roll on every f*ckin verse I'm rapping on
(That n*gga Mystikal tighter than a muh'f*cker) HAHHHHH?
I came up off of "Peter Piper" bells and the LL's "Bad"
These n*ggas be p*ssed off at me
Cause their old lady call me they baby
MC's pilin up and crowdin up, but I'm their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherf*ckin face (HIII-YAH)
Your album ain't tight, WHAT IN THE f*ck IS YOU PUSHIN?
You played out just like old woman pus*y
Ewwwwh!

[Interlude: Snoop Dogg]
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony

[Verse 6: Goldie Loc, Snoop Dogg, & Both]
Now watch me put these haters to the test (Test)
Acc*mulatin with my stress (Stress)
Fold em f*ck em fifty, get the sh*t up off my chest (Chest)
Releasin anger, all natural gangsta energy (Energy)
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House gang
Motherf*ckers better start backin up (What up, what up)
We in the Tank punk busters
Motherf*ckers don't wanna see us loc'd up (AHH!)
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thang
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gangbang

[Interlude: Snoop Dogg]
Last up, I believe that's me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony

[Verse 7: Snoop Dogg]
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn't coming out with some exquisite rhymes
But that's okay, cause now I'm back (Uh-huh)
To kill all the rumors (Say what?), and straighten the facts
Like umm, doin bad (What?), gettin ganked for my bank
Now you all on my di*k when you see I'm a TRU Tank Dogg (Haha)
You say, "Mmmm-mmm-mmm! Ain't that somethin
Dogg, I bought yo' album, my n*gga, that sh*t is bumping
I apologize (I'm sorry), I'm sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?" (Sheeeiit)
sh*t, I'm setting it off, letting it off, busting (busting)
Hustling (hustling), rushing (rushing), dusting motherf*ckers ('Sup?)
Droppin the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class (First class)
I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some Mo' in the glass
Too legit to quit (Yeah), I'm spittin gangsta sh*t (Haha!)
Man, f*ck all that yapping (yeah)
We 'bout that gun clapping (Shhh!)

[Outro: Snoop Dogg]
No Limit, yeah, that's what's happenin
No Limit, No Limit, No LImit, No Limit
f*ck all that yapping, we bout that gun clappin (No Limit)
Yeah, in the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve
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