B.G. - Where Ya From lyrics

Chorus [Tec-9]: Where you from? Represent where you from n***a! Where you from? Where you from? Where your from? Take it to the street twerk somethin' twerk somethin' Now take it to the street twerk sometin' twerk somethin' Where you from? Represent where you from n***a! Where you from? Where you from? Where your from? Take it to the street twerk somethin' twerk somethin' Now take it to the street twerk sometin' twerk somethin' First Verse [Tec-9]: Now that the heat done scorched ya, I sparked at'cha Laughed at'cha, you know you done f**ed up with the master And you still s**in' on my dick Because you bite my sh**, and recite my sh** Switch my rhymes all around and you sing my sh** Partners-N-Crime, y'all b**hes with that war claimin' Y'all be claimin' the seventeenth, but never hangin' Have you ever put in work for your hood? You n***as talk about that boy, rap about that boy But you coward muthaf**as never seen that boy Y'all the fakest muthaf**as alive! Tell me where y'all from? n***a tell me where the f** y'all from? If you don't wanna survive then keep it up And let me give you the 3rd Ward treatment Coward b**hes always with that creepin' If I would have caught'cha I would have brought'cha in the Calliope and burnt'cha like a b**h Cuz I don't got no love for these n***as or these cliques I'm sick of the hoe sh**, the Black Connection ready to take a hit I got a posse full of n***as and they bout it I represent, to the fullest Supplyin' my n***as with only hollow tip bullets Like Yella said, you should have thought twice when you said my name By now you know you said the f**in' wrong name mane Don't let me catch'cha, I wet'cha put that on my Mama You n***as lame, nothin' shakin' y'all ain't bout no drama So let me hear ya holler, if ya feel me And after this you b**hes prolly wanna come and k** me But I'm unfadeable, on top of that you got no balls Cuz when the drama jumps off, your sh** falls And I don't need no introduction Cuz I'm crackin' your b**h face with phat lyrics, and phat production Chorus Second Verse [Tec-9]: Now I'ma do it like a real G do it I'm walkin', and my four ten is doin' the talkin' I do my dirt on the cool, fa sho Handle business by myself and dump your body in the Melph Then I call up my n***a from the Black Connection And tell them what I want them to do with the rest of your CLIQUE Even the ones that ain't down with the bullsh** The good guys suffer for the bad guys rip Don't ever cross a G, like me The muthaf**in' capital T, to the E, to the C You never heard the name P-N-C floatin' on the streets Until them b**hes started dissin' U.N.L.V I can't respect'cha cuz you not original And you still tryin' to sound like Reginold Yeah, my style is buck wild, my flow is like the Nile And the B.G. is hyper, earnin' stripes like a tiger Chop yo a** like Viper, and wash you like a windshield wiper So call Mama, tell her that you won't be makin' dinner And leave the Police out, or else I'll go and get her Lil' Ya will put the Tec in they mouth Bring it out, so we can show them b**hes what it's all about (What it's all about) Chorus Third Verse [B.G.] Big Boy you better skip town n***a, don't hang around n***a Cuz if I catch'cha, I'ma bring ya down n***a I'ma clown n***a, with the seventeen rounds n***a BLUCKA, BLUCKA to yo head, how that sound n***a? Knowin' you ain't bout that drama talkin' above yo head Fat mouth n***a and they'll find yo monkey a** dead A Baby Gangsta, straight bout it and I'm ready to prove it If you bout it, there it is partner we can do it p**y says "Drama Time", where the f** you at? You on wax talkin' about let's go gat for gat But it don't count like that, put aside rappin' Let's start strappin', bring on the cappin' I got a clique with Glocks, choppers, and Mac-11's n***a tryin' to build nuts off a case that's dumped for seven But I'ma show ya some real street sh** Underestimate a B.G., bound to get'cha head split I already keep a roll of duct tape and rope Black So watch'cha back, because you'll find yourself smacked I already said I'd get that p**y with the braids but he duckin' Curious, he must have heard I'm serious They givin' me a mean look because they bigger I don't know what make'em figure, that I won't pull the trigger But that's where they wrong at Cuz I'll wax they f**in' patch f** that boot camp clique, I'll send ya to Hell n***a If you want the B.G., you'll find me on V.L. n***a When you get it on your mind, we can flex sk**s Y'all say you got a hundred G's, but my n***as got a mill So wa**up? Put your money where that dick go Chuck! You ole trick a** hoe Stop playin' with me, I done did enough speakin' Hollows I'ma be releasin', blood just a leakin' Get your nuts out'cha stomach my n***a Get your heart out'cha a** n***a Never had my dick s**ed by a man before Mystikal you gone be the first you lil' trick a** hoe Chorus