D.J. Paul - H.C.P. lyrics

[DJ Paul] Yeah, H.C.P. Defeat does not exist in this Camp Do you hear me it's goin down Yhe n***as who's sellin for real Ya boys hurtin out there man I see your sound scans we k**in you baby And we gon keep bringing this pain And this motherf**in bump in your motherf**in speakers [DJ Paul] See I'm the number one k**a for these b**h a** n***as Got guns got rope for a b**h a** n***a Plastic bags, duck tape for a b**h a** n***a Stolen cars, sellin hoes for a b**h a** n***a S K's, double clips for a b**h a** n***a 40 cal. on the hip for a b**h a** n***a Ridin Benz's shootin at you old b**h a** n***a Hypnotize we allergic to a b**h a** n***a n***as wanna talk sh** you a kid to me I'll f** you up, real dog, its some k**as with me In the end you won't see me, just wait for my calls Ill ride by shoot your momma's house up and all And leave a motherf**er bleedin on the carpet Walk right up to your bedroom window and don't stop it n***a you started, I won't when I brought you back Momma dead in the Lexus, when you look back [Crunchy Black] Hold up my n***a This is danger you is facing Ima crank the f**in chain saw And cut you like Jason Ain't wastin no time Ima go on head and let my smith and wesson Gone shine my n***a, yall be hatin Ain't no hatin on me dog Ima leave you layin in the motherf**in street dog Now catch this heat yall, lock it and release yall I'm just tryin to keep some mutherf**in peace dog Yall Testin me [Juicy J] People always asking 'bout Project Pat Did he get ten years, or did he time go flat Well ima tell you like this, its a baller battle Try to prosecute a n***a, probably taller than Shaq Me and my brother been down, since the days a rap Hangin out Cypress Garden tryin to sell the crack Can't no money or no b**h can relate to that Throught he good and the bad ima have his back So ima tell you young n***as in the streets today That be standing on the block, smoke chokin that hay The Police, Prosecutors are the enemies Dont get caught up in that cross yo decsion you make If I could turn back the hands of time, I would And tell my big brother the gun ain't no good He got one strike a felon, thats good ? [Lord Infamous] Its the heavyweight Championship of rap I hope you did all your sit ups and ran your laps Cause I'm ready for the whole damn ten round battle Throw a jab left, up, right, to the map And I don't think your boys gonna help you this time Cause you done f**ed around with the wrong damn kind Got get a bump and grind gotta box made of pine Gotta nine to your spine, yo I gotta get mine With that in mind, yo for what I am highly trained Insane mane, and I gotta very good aim So bring yo bandaids and your pain k**ers We foe k**er, type of n***as Best believe we keepin you injured Even worse then you in pictures So get buck if you really think you want to Best believe Lord is gonna come back and haunt you [Lil Wyte] Calls it quits when you talk cause you spoke my name Gotta switch when you walk, lookin like you a dame Lil Wyte, yeah I rocked it when I entered the game Cause Ima hussler on my bumpin for my fortune and fame And its a blessin, not a question, being part of this Camp Learn a lessin from this blessin you can't f** with this Fam' Youll come up missin when you glisten your lil wrist I'm not dissin Until the center of attention, and your momma you listenin And I'm the one bringing thunder to this sky you wonder f** around wit a mugger and Ill then make you wonder What happened to this little craker it was just marijuana His shoes just got a little bigger, I just gonna warn you That he was creepin from the slab, where the gat is packed Pull a Cop k**er bullets that'll pierce your back I tried to save your soul and plus state the facts But still b**h made motherf**er's get laid flat [Frayser Boy] Muthaf**er co*k s**er you don't want none of this b**h pull a trigger tell a n***a f**in wit this sh** HCP best believe, bring the motherf**in pain Clickin on you, hittin on you, we ain't playin no games f** you off, we the boss, got the city on lock Glock my side, time of ride, Got the sawed b**h co*ked Wit a n***a makin moves, in this f**in rap sh** Trigger pull it, get a bullet, cause you know I'm strapped b**h Know a bunch of n***as some real, some fake, some hate, Some trake So I get them b**hes out the way Dont you test, be my guess, We gone bust the steal n***a one less, shoot less, tone to the head feel n***a what you wanna do dog Bring the sh** to the fan Every stressin, got you goin down like quick sand Frayser Boy, Rep of course, find me in the f**in Bay Slangin work, doin dirt, quickin wit the AK Pa** the gat and lets ride Lord is in your house best go hide Crunchy gon smack you cross the head wit the Tone Juicy the type n***a you best leave lone Paul ain't gone talk at all he gon blast f**in wit this click you b**h you won't last Much love to my n***a Pat and thats real Lil Wyte reppin Bay with me don't get k**ed