Tech N9ne - Bang lyrics

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Tech N9ne - Bang lyrics

[Verse 1: Tech N9ne] I'm the Regime's k**er secret weapon how 'bout that? So saline n***as get to steppin' how 'bout that? You gay bling spitters think you reppin' I doubt that Stay out back, cause me and my n***as about scrap When Tech is in the house "Oh my god, danger" The Tech is in your mouth from a odd, stranger Rejectin' n***as routes that bizarre changer Injectin' in your spouse on your broad's banger First infantry, cursed entity burst into me One of the perks in this earth's 21st century Makin you jerk mentally cause this verse meant to be Raising my lurks snippin' he got a murks into the Mystical medicine malis murderous mud vein Biblical boss of the ballin' beast in the blood game Sinner's and theres satan setting so let the slug stain Silenty seekin' your sh** salute and let the scud bang [Hook] x2 Bang, don't consider this an ordinary thang Tech with D-Loc and Dalima Get money mane Jellysickle s**in' n***as in the game They can hold us can't control us when we BANG [Verse 2: Dalima] (Hey) I'm the n***a that be bustin' I'm the n***a that be crushin' your whole gang And they don't really wanna f** with us, duck because (we gon' part flame) Techa nina with dalima finna beam a b**h from across the border And I'm f**in' with chicks who think I'm givin' restraining orders That's some Bullsh**, every n***a I know got full clips So you better get the money cause I'm finna run a n***a like (ooh trip) Nobody so probably yo body should move away Lookin' so gotti soap knotty and honestly y'all gay I'm the most modest of the local you n***as just wanna play That's what Tech life meant for me and D-loc we f** up the game And sincerely clearly, I think they say it it all Look at the way we dealin witchyou packin' n***as wanna I gotta getchu a call [Hook] [Verse 3: D-loc] You can ride we ride dirty in my all white T Then bu*ter my 9 I had you missin' all white teeth n***a I let the scud bang, I'mma street and this thug twisted came My customers love me cause I'm insane with the cookin' game You know what I think of these motherf**ers lil' train You must be addicted to inhalin' the smell of a cooking brain Closed casket in the funeral home sittin' We the main motherf**ers giving funeral homes business Sending n***as to Allah, lucifer's home chillin' Thought you was harbor built up enough nuts for your own k**in' And n***a be guilt like I'm thieving, when I'm dumpin' the mini fourteen and I'm leavin' 'em leaking and weak in the middle of the street this season Then sleep on the beat recognize we ride through the street with heat Like a whip with no AC in the summertime bang a n***as beat When my n***a tech n9ne the master D-Loc and Dalima call the disaster The world call us in you will never ever has a Reason for your momma to call a pasteur [Hook]