Nasty Beat Makers - Leave Me Alone, Pt. 2 lyrics

[Verse 1] I be like: "Move! get out the way" Cause I move bricks, get out the yay And it's 2 clips, I get out to play for Few chips, I get out n' spray It's more then shrimps, it's who*es and pimps The difference in our crimes, yours attempts Attempt burglary, attempt theft you just begun I'm Grand Theft Auto, racketeering, larceny, conspiracy, murder one Electric chair I don't deserve the fun But I get the dough, sh** I might splurge on one Now I know a lotta styles, some see But listen, stop it child it's a done D I come to ya block, stop it's that one D Gators straight from Crocodile Dundee No rubber sole, hardwood ba*tard Fitted, legitted, hardwood cla**ic k**a! Uh! [Verse 2] Uh, that sh** you talk don't move me nada The dudes with the Q's be proper Uzi pop, you news and choppers It's truly liver, who knew we'd prosper The game's a b**h, ooh we got her Shoes, Louis, Prada, groupie blah blah Santana, Zeek, the kufi poppa We the movie Shottas But it's really rude bois and rastas With a Trailer Load of Girls, excuse me Shabba I wish my homie could watch me Live Happy Days like Joanie and Chachi I stay lonely and co*ky Dice! Rollin' and rollin' 'em Cars, the repo are towin' 'em Ask black, we totally total 'em Even Blood, he totally totaled it Plus his life, he totally totaled it But any girl I get I totally open 'em Brain and they legs, coke and the dope in 'em [Hook] k**a! Talkin' tough? (Yo!), smokin' dust (Whoa!) f** with us? (No! No! No!) Get ya head bust Get ya head bust f** around dawg, get ya head bust He talkin' fly (Yo!), I wonder why (Whoa!) f** with us? (No! No! No!) Get ya head bust Get ya head bust f** around dawg, get ya head bust [Verse 3] I spend days on Kawasakis Nights with Lewinsky But I'm the like the Ice Man, Michael Kuklinski I style on New York, pile up my fork The Dips, consulted by the son of Malachi York, doggy Cause I push weight, plus I push tapes God damn I'm starvin' and I just ate I wouldn't say I'm Nino at The Carter I'm more like the plant in Little Shop Of Horrors But I don't say "Feed me Seymour" I say, "Feed me Dame, feed me Lyor" (billions!) Epic, they used to feed me detours Roc-A-Fella, they feed me C-4 The way I blow up, the VS just soars You GS-3, I'm GS-4 You in a Lexus, I'm Gulf Stream 4 Up in the sky, on a gulf stream tour You want beef? We'll start a Gulf Stream war Lay ya a** down on God's green floor We playin' golf in the Gulf Of New Mexico The cost to be the boss, you gotta respect it, ho My gas game you gotta respect it tho I swear to god you think I'm workin' for Texaco And ya section know when any day Tecs could blow Hit 'em from neck to toe when I come deck ya ho k**a! Dipset b**h!