Goin’ Be Some sh*t lyrics

by

Styles P


[Intro]
I think it's time I start feelin b*tchy
I've been too nice, too muthaf*ckin long
Yeah, it's definately time I get nasty
[Goin' be some sh*t]

[Verse 1]
Yeah, yo, well if I can't talk lets square off in the streets like the westerns
Ten paces, turn around and squeeze at unfamiliar faces
First y'all industry n*ggas shut the f*ck up
Swear you know a n*gga's sh*t by readin the Vibe
What some faggit-ass reporter done wrote on your life
I stop the presses, don't let this be your last interview you do
I say it straight, print it straight to avoid this bullet wound boo
And y'all n*ggas kill me with that Windy Williams sh*t
See a playa bummy swear a n*gga Puff j*rkin n*ggas money
Something ain't right, them n*ggas ain't got no whips
Where they rollies at, but f*ck y'all we got more chips
sh*t y'all doin nothin, I can buy a moat for a b*tch
Now let me see what else, oh yeah these hoes act like we married
We ain't engaged, don't be mad if I don't take you backstage
Yo, if I hit that I hit that, why don't you leave it at that
Instead you try to star sixty-nine my b*tches on jacks
That's why you get smacked, cause y'all hoes ain't never gon' learn
That's why many of these younger brothers don't go on that turn
As for y'all MC's, whoever write your rhymes
Might as well hold your microphone, thats how I feel if it ain't your own
What we spit is individually writ
Why you paid sixteen stars to write your sixteen bars
Bought like sixteen cars and ain't like none of them yours
Y'all n*ggas lucked up and made it through these doors, shut the f*ck up
[Chorus]
Shut the f*ck up
[Hot damn]
(Goin be some sh*t)

[Verse 2]
Yo, yo, yo, aiyyo I pump up, get big walk through the party jig
Hat back, tattoos that straight to the bar kid
No weed, healthy as an ox the big man from Lox
You see solo in some spots, no crew just blocks
The freaky one, mom said I was soon to be done
Because I sexed more, and my career's yet to begun
But I can't help that, you bless me with they looks and pops with the yanks
So now the dimes gimme brain, and spot me faster in his hand
Sheek baby, my style been rough until Puff showed me the better things in life
And how to live phat like Biggie, so I present my sh*t like that
Half rough half jiggy, this part time college n*gga, part time job
Had to taste the cake one time and decided to rob, and buy drugs
Caught slippin almost got Sheek plugged, Jack Daniel, dog
Shorty rushed the buildin with the pump out, he spit a round I'm like, whoa!
I guess it was God that pushed my head down, cause I ain't know, word yo
And since then neither religious or christian, but I keep the faith in Him
Plus the desert eagle clan, so if n*ggas click they know by now they better warn they men, wha

[Chorus]
Shut the f*ck up
[Hot damn]
(Goin be some sh*t)
[Verse 3]
Yo, aiyyo, my whole click been ConAir, everytime we fly but we don't jack sh*t
We play it cool when in doubt no cash, plastic, gats plastic
Now thats sweet, unditected, so when I walk through the scanners it don't beep
I hear f*ck Sheek, f*ck the Lox, Styles, and Jay, so what they signed to Bad
Boy
Puff j*rkin them anyway, but the difference is if I'm gettin j*rked I'm still
Seein noise
Push the big boy toys that fly by like zooms
So while you sit and gossip like a b*tch, Lox in Cancun
Up in daddios f*ckin wild hoes, the groupy chicas
So f*ck y'all, we paid y'all no mind, Y'all underneath us, we train hard continuously, cause we
Smart
How Rocky ran up them stairs, we run up charts and won't stop til one of us
Depart
With one through the heart, but even then that won't stop us
Cause or spirit gon' guide us, till we rich and old, hand worn down from
Arthritis
In the hall of fame, we killed this game in your website like spiders
Old and gray we're still the same Lox you can't divide us, wha

[Chorus]
Shut the f*ck up
[Hot damn]
(Goin be some sh*t)
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