Murder Inc. Records - The Next n***az lyrics

C'mon D roll, let's go Yeah, sup motherf**ers? It's your n***a Irv Gotti on the motherf**in check in Me and my n***a sug came to bring ya the new n***as, the next n***as Eastwood, Crooked I, Ronnie Bumps, Dave Bing, Black Child, Caddilac Tah Santana tell these n***as what the f** is up [Chorus] Pain, y'all really pressin y'all luck if you tryin to bring it to us My n***as don't play Like them nallies in them Cadillac Trucks For whoever ready to bust, We all about pain Is red run and my n***as stay high (It's the roll for life) We all about bu*ts and f**in them s*uts ma [Eastwood] n***a put your motherf**in hands up I bang a roll when it's a stick-up Double when I'm in the pick-up And tie your loud mouth b**h up Listen we came for murder so I'm aimin to k** Aimin the steel, co*k it back and show me the real I get high in the moonlight My brains so sick, Wit a game so thick We about to tear the frame on sh** I'm the murderest disaster, ghetto child, thug basterd And I can't be seen before Christ or after [Crooked I] n***a my left hand hold some of the best damn toast It's Heavier than the weight on a depressed mans show This is Crooked, the secret ambre I put so many infa-red dots on shirt n***as would think you was quamade I'ma get your a** while your pa**in some indo Blastin your benzo And leave half of you face mashed on the pa**enger window Then go bang your ho Plus put her on the hood, that b**h gon bang the road Ya know [Chorus] Pain, y'all really pressin y'all luck if you tryin to bring it to us My n***as don't play Like them nallies in them Cadillac Trucks For whoever ready to bust, We all about pain Is red run and my n***as stay high (It's murda for life) We all about bu*ts and f**in them s*uts ma [Ronnie Bumps] What do you know about parkin a n***a (eve break in his face) Fo-five straight shakin a n***a You gon be crying while you crawlin I got arms and dog I keep fallin (Ya in and out of walls) With them same n***as that smoked my man And I be damned if I die without a gun in my hand From W.H. get shot die calm Gettin buried in hate, chi-chi mind move on [Dave Bing] Blazin the track better known for slingin crack Ya paid to rap now n***as jealous of that (Uh-huh) It's eatin em up (But we still incin it up) Screamin murda (Ya we don't give a f**) I hate the wild on n***as, while the style on n***as (Uh-huh) When they smile upon b**hes tell em make three wishes But if n***as wanna front, then they end up in a trunk On the front seat slumped Holes in em from the pump (From the pump n***a what) [Chorus] Pain, y'all really pressin y'all luck if you tryin to bring it to us My n***as don't play Like them nallies in them Cadillac Trucks For whoever ready to bust, We all about pain Is red run and my n***as stay high (It's murda for life) We all about bu*ts and f**in them s*uts ma [Black Child] I was a late '70's baby Started playin wit guns and expirimented wit d** in the early '80's You could tell the streets raised me The way I, fondle the 380 My momma did me crazy Don't ask about my father I didn't have a father figure The streets was my n***a, heat was my liqour Theres freaks in my picture anything to get richer I was wit ya, and leave it to the lord to come get ya [Caddillac Tah] Yeah Man y'all ready to go, when the gun show Let one go for fun though Just to let n***as see how the gun toast C-A, Double D, I, Double L To the A To the C me Flyin threw the hood in the C3 Nothin but gangsta is how I like it and live it Like skies is the limit From slingin dimes to pridics Y'all n***as vide it b**hess And I sensed it from the door, to senseitive for war Pull your skirt up motherf**er it's murder [Chorus] Pain, y'all really pressin y'all luck if you tryin to bring it to us My n***as don't play Like them nallies in them Cadillac Trucks For whoever ready to bust, We all about pain Is red run and my n***as stay high (It's murda for life) We all about bu*ts and f**in them s*uts ma