Bun B - b**h n***a lyrics

[Talking] n***a don't act like he don't know who I'm talkin' bout (Fifty-Cent piece drops on table) [Coinciding With 50 Cent's Intro on 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin'] [Scarface] It's your worst day, run and tell somebody It's your worst day It's your worst day, run and tell somebody It's your worst day What it is?, n***a! You don't wanna get involved with this here, n***a! Is you a b**h n***a?, you a b**h n***a! Look at yourself and then an*lyze me! This motherf**ing G It's the flossy, you got girl draws and Girl flaws and, a braud n***a! I peeped your whole hand when you came in I'm a man and I hang men Play the game to win All mission play on ten Scarface 'finna do it again Mash you n***a, stash them n***as Don't make me upstrap and blast you n***as Once again, it's a only if you must I do it Lock you in my scope and blast your a** through it I'mma poet The image and the style that you used to Cus' you don't keep it real like you used to A O.G., S.A., fool to the hole fa'sho So n***as slow your motherf**ing roll 'Fore I come through with the same M-11 The Feds took from me, and shoot you in yo motherf**ing stomach [Hook: Scarface] You a Snitch n***a, when you rat on yo friends b**h n***a, when you still be in pads with yo kin You'z a Snitch n***a, running when the drama go's down You was ballin' at first what happened to the man in the south You a Snitch n***a, specializin' at bumpin' ya gums b**h n***a, countin' on ya bricks but all I see is crumbs Snitch n***a, ain't you tired of running your mouth And you can go home, 'fore the Devil run in your house [Verse: Z-Ro] Now snitch fellas get up under my skin That's why I don't mess with friends Unless it's my Mac-10 I'm the king of the ghetto, Z-Ro the crooked in the flesh Looking for head shots, cuz b**h fellas get the bullet-proof vests What you scared for? What happened to all the tough a** talk The way you was bumpin', I thought you had a taste for asphalt Look at momma's baby out here starvin' for his a** Whippin', chiefin', with a magician then drippin' out his a**, listen I'll be damned if I pull a rabbit out a hat Well pull my 40 out of holster, and do this snitch fella on his back WHOA!, look how I handled this .44 My conscience be screaming Z-Ro Murder Mo!, Murder Mo! And these snitch fellas on "How I'm Living" try snitchin' on "BET" But got a restraining order against "Murder I-N-C" This how we ride, and ain't never gon' make a switch dude Z-Ro the Crooked, I'll be damned if I be a snitch fool [Hook] [Verse 3: Bun B] It's Bun B I go back-a like "Atlanta Black Crackers" I back-slap a, back-packer, from here to Cakalacka{Carolina's} Wack cracka, short stopper or dope beginner b**h I ain't ya chicken hitter, bring the heater get you wetter(get you Wetter) We can flip the caliber magnum hanger Step a bear off in his chest, you better hope I don't land one If I co*k the b**h back..aim it at your chest It'll be piece before they even find the pieces to your vest We relievers of ya stress..ease ya fame Put this pistol in your mouth, you better lead them treason games Now when ya momma warned ya about Bun and he's insane k** a kid over a quarter, who just keeps plain Now watch this kids plain, 'fore you f**in with the triller Z-Ro the young guerilla And Face the born k**a (b**h n***a) Bend around in the dark for dough (b**h n***a) You here the sounds you spark for the floor [Hook]