Memphis Bleek - 4-5-6 lyrics

[Beanie Sigel] Ughh, ughh, yeah This is Beanie Sigel That Philly cat who ain't with that silly rap Put your weight up, not your hate up, n***as Y'all know how I play quiet towns and tie 'em down Haters wonderin' how I got a position with Roc Cuz I listen to The LOX and I listen then watch While you still sittin' in spots, ditchin' the cops I'm in the Porsche Box with Fox, glistenin' watch War steel gray, Lexus, GS-4 Desert Eagle metal in the door, pedal to the floor I'm routin' down South, for my aim is to score Eight cylinder, screamin' 'f** the law!' Got a tank full of gas, trunk full of cash Hammers in the stash, scanners in the dash Radar detectors, troopers can't find us We bubble down ATL and hit the 'Linas Then get clubbed with some Dirty South thugs Go all out thugs, go in your house thugs Talk sh**, put blood in your mouth thugs 36 South stuck, stay on route thugs You know how Mac play, quiet town, tie it down I supply it now, by the pound Might front you a Q if you buy a pound If you didn't try it then, why would you try it now? Think cause Mac rap, I wouldn't fire a round into your crown I lay you down and retire you clown And I clap n***as, nap n***as in the dirt Pat-pat with the deuce deuce, it'll work b**h a** n***as wearin' thongs and skirts Catch 'em early in the mornin' while they goin' to work See you pretty motherf**ers stay stuck in the mirror And you weak a** n***as only bust out of fear I know y'all softer than them feathers that they stuff in a bear I pack two barettas, never bust in the air Twist your sh** back, spit til my gat sits back Pack four pieces like a Kit Kat. Heh, get that? Cop Cris' by the six-pack, Range Rov?' Dot six that Benz Coupe, drop six that Buggy eye seven come out? sh**, took the six back Switch the Double R, the Double R's are, gotta get that You see how we play, pop Cris' on the E-Way Soakin' the seat, gettin' drunk with Bleek Or the Shark Bar, grilled salmon, poppin' Dom P While you chicken when you chasin' your high with hot tea n***as flashin' back money like it's they money Slap 500 on back of a three-twenty I'm bringin' it to any n***a tryin' to shoot games (yeah) With them bullsh** buggy-eyed kits and CDs [Memphis Bleek] Check it out, yo, yo Well, I'm a lil' n***a don't speak, I tote heat Here to shut down your whole operation on the street Bleek, you know n***as just had to recruit this My flow drool out like a old n***a toothless Who would believe they pump Bleek with Ritalin Too hyped up, but weed calm my adrenaline Roll day on the strip, SK in the crib Hundred crack viles, playin' the Benj' Nickel nine gleam, like it's Armor All'd up My squad be armed up, gotcha n***as' arms up Who the f** want what? Me and Bean's trumped up Witcha town under siege, Dillinger in the sleeve If my gun jam, you n***as'll squeeze on me You n***as them cats, that'll call D's on me I'm on on my off game, need a stadium for in stores Floss chains and I pimp who*es, stay smoked out Shirt be poked out with the snub-nosed eight Six to jump out, you eat what you spit Motherf**er die clean For you actin' tough cats, but in your heart you serene I read your body languo You off balance and don't wanna mangle You want a challenge, get it brought to from every angle This sh**'ll slow 'em down, I bet that Your up front dough and your six, bet that motherf**er [Foxy Brown] Sa**y Fox some brick money, cop me a drop You know how I run it, 600, gla**y top Rock the light gray wrist sh**, flash them rocks The red, the yellow, the green, causin' traffic stops b**h please, never freeze, gonna blast the Glock Then I show a little cleave' and breeze past the cops You talk slick but s** dick for money in y'all hand I'm like, "b**h, I got more money than your man" While you get your knees scraped up, cum all on your glands sh**, I'm in the V Twinz ballin' on you tramps Y'all hoes greasy, so I keep the b**h easy Rookie, f** you know about Glocks and pock' books? You know Na Na rock that sh**, Pra-da that sh** Es-ca that sh**, Dolce Gabba that sh** Hollow points, top that sh**, f** you tryin' to aim Pop that sh**, yeah, n***a, Fox got that sh** You see the ice wrist sh**, can you cop that sh** Chanel crocodile and ostrich sh**, whoa! You know my style, I be spendin' they cash And I'll show their little dick some celebrity a** And get 'em a brick, I know what style to get them n***as sh** real Well, f**, I let 'em live and lick the tip of my sh** To remind 'em of some rose petals, candles, and sh** Or some hydro like the n***a grew a plant in my sh** So that's what it is, that's why them hoes mad at my sh** See my whilin' in the four-six, stylin' on they bum a** Goddess MC, y'all b**hes is little Foxes I see my girls frontin', tossin' they little watches Cris? I pops it. f**in' a n***a topless Cats? I fouls on. Hoes? I styles on, n***a Wear y'all out then air y'all out Over here? Hustle from where, clear all out sh**, greyhound b**h, stay down b**h And y'all know Jigga sent me here to lay down sh** I will spray y'all n***as, will waste y'all n***as Cause I f**ed the n***a and paid y'all n***as sh**, what the f**