RNS - No More Mr. Nice Guy lyrics

[Intro] Aiyo, got ya muthaf**a seein stars (Brown Hornet, Pop) Blastin muthaf**as out the muthaf**in box (Out the box) [Pop Da Brown Hornet] Shake rattle & roll, ratters than ya peasants ya peasants Form a line, while I'm handin out presents Stiff jabs or stiff kicks, for a n***a Big back with stiff dick, for my b**hes Burn like a cancer stick, free loaded spit Them cops that k**ed Diallo, they can s** my dick 41 shots, enough lead to take a city exam Or ain't that one man with the NYPD Who need the Ku Klux Klan I ain't runnin or hiddin, like 2Pac I'm riddin and dyin New York, New York, It's where brothers are sport Make it to the playoffs, don't get happy get ya head blown off We got dick for nuts, puttin fingers on red bu*tons Ready to launch, tellin us, turnin ya arms Hell no baby, ya devils must be crazy Out of ya mind, I'm holdin on to my nine Chorus: Smoke (Pop Da Brown Hornet) No More Mr. Nice Guy (No More Mr. Nice Guy) No More Mr. Nice Guy (No More Mr. Nice Guy) No More Mr. Nice Guy (No More Mr. Nice Guy) No More Mr. Mr. Mr. Mr. Mr. Mr [Pop Da Brown Hornet] You hold every sentimental As for me, I lost my feelings somewhere inside the temple Where they got throat cutters and back stabbers A life is lost right in front of your eyes, nothing really matters You just go on living, Projects is like prison We got f*gs and dikes, razor blades and knifes h*mo thugs, and all type of d** Addicts, snitches, b**hes, holdin ya pictures With nothin on but a thong f** me, leave at night, for a trailer visit, f** you in the morn Bad boys, we k**in toys, they muffle and noise Never lose they boys, they just keep on squeezin Bodies drop for no reason, k** you for breathin Rumble till we even, or till one of us die Eye for an eye, yo it's no more Mr. Nice Guy Heads gotta fly, we 'em up, let 'em hang dry Choke 'em till they pa** out, wake up in ya briefs Playin for keeps, yo f** you and your peeps Never had it good, my last album went wood Bought my words when you hear this, I'm movin out the hood Takin no prisoners, no eye witnesses, if ya sensitive Back up, you want no part of this Ghetto ba*tard, who never got his a** kicked I just stay kickin a**, got the mic and the smash Step up, feel the blast from the Brown Bomber You don't really want drama, quick to start sh** But then go runnin to ya mama "Dial 911 Brown Hornet on the new cent, he f**in with my son" b**h tell that piece of sh** to finish what he started With this cold hearted, half retarded, hip hop artist Weak rapper, told ya lame a** not to cry But you gotta fry f**in wit no more Mr. Nice Guy Chorus [Outro] Aiyo, aiyo, aiyo, this Smoke right here The new millennium, ain't no more Mr. nice guy That's right, that's right When you see us in the club, there's no more Mr. nice guy When you see us in the streets, no more Mr. nice guy That's right, Baby Pop, Brown Hornet baby Smoke Records, RNS Productions, Ain't no more Mr. nice guy We're not playin, it's not a game