H.A.W.K. - Hate in Yo Blood lyrics

(*talking*) Yeah it's gutter n***a, Fat Rat Wit Da Cheeze n***a Southwest n***a, Screwed Up Click n***a whoa [Lil' O] This is mean rap, hop out of the Houptie burn a n***a flee the scene rap Chop a n***a head off with, call it guillotine rap Motherf** you p**y, if you ain't about your green stacks Lil' O's a hustler, what This is for my n***as, with the coedine in the cup And my hustlers in the trap, moving rocks up on the cut Money over b**hes n***a, keep your money up Motherf** a piece of p**y, they bop when they see the truck On 24's, n***a I got plenty hoes If you want a bunch of b**hes, n***a get you plenty do' They come with the territory, n***a wanna hear a story Bout how a real n***a named O, came to glory First thing first I got superdrive, dog I'm not your average dude Lil' bro, I'm super live Hopped out the Lac, on 4's like Super Fly Play a n***a like a hoe, I garuntee do or die you got me f**ed up See me in the big Benz, getting s**ed up By a yellow hair under there, love to swallow nut If I shoot or miss, then I'm gonna follow up I got k**as on the payroll, don't make me call 'em up It is not a thang, come through popping thangs Dog there's a price on your head, and I drop the change p**y No I'm not a joke, I'm not broke Man I let the thang smoke, I'll leave ya dead like the Pope don't push me n***a [H.A.W.K.] Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-fo' That was the countdown, to some monstrous flow You already know, I got monstrous do' And the ice that I rock, got a monstrous glow 6-4 weighing, and a 2-84 And I throw a blow, that'll knock 'em all to the flo' Remarkable, not your average dude And I spit sh**, that makes parpalegics screwed All H.A.W.K. do, is make strategic moves And the flames that I spit, are so hard to refuse If you confuse, peep the context clues Or was it like Larry Hughes, on my P's and Q's I'm bolt to this screw, with a pair of pliers And most of these rappers, are compulsive liars Claiming they the best, since Hov' retired They need to be comedians, like Richard Pryor Show me the money, like Jerry McGuire And I'll spit a flow, that set the booth on fire You might of seen my posters, stickers and fliers I'm the five-star general, of the Screw empire You the type of n***a, that's under required Cause sk**s like mine, are really hard to acquire Pouring up a deuce, it'll piece the pie-a You just gotta admit it, the kid's on fire [Big Pokey] These other playas hurt, they be hugging my belly And a n***a tired of eating, peanut bu*ter and jelly I treat mic's like confeddi, clock punching is steady Don't have to rap everyday, cause my Columbians is heavy Go with it I'ma fade it, if the money is heavy Bet the title too line 'em up, Hummers and Cheves I like my money like lettuce n***a, crispy and green Conversation for a b**h, make her piss in her jeans A grown can't be chilling, with no chicken or teen Even if she thick in the jeans, thick in between Already found my queen, and she gave me a princess Soon to be a n***a bride, watch the backside slide Watch the backside glide, when I'm working the three-wheel Sensei Mob boss, M.O.B. real Girl get your hair did, peticure and a refill In the morning, I'ma check up on my n***a and be real For my n***as on lock, Black Magic D.Hill Nonproof, Hard Plack, Erik and P. Real n***a need three shields, and a vest to put on Go on and stunt, I got a clip that'll shoot for a month Grinding, everything shining in the diamond Tee-tiller, block in the wind like it's a limon f** consignment, we ain't giving you sh** S.U.C. means s** my dick, motherf**er