Yogi US - Nuthin' But lyrics

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Yogi US - Nuthin' But lyrics

{Black Rob} Aiyo I'm just lottin thru cuz I finished with that booty call Green Acres more, lot and Queens had it all Got the beat from my man Big Stan 50 Grand Rhythem Blunt Cru, Black Rob in demand {Chadeeo} Mic check one, and the mic check two Rhythem Blunt Cru runs thru you like the flu f** ya whole shop up and inside Leave ya jaw to the floor, eyes open wide {Yogi} Loungin in my crib upon, now in 12 floor Lo-Lo wit the ham come knockin at my door She sell Glock shells by the sea shore Payin for the guests on that big a** boat {Black Rob} Yo kids I'm takin no shorts, back and forth like a meter Play it crazy, ballin see ya, park dark black Adidas Art shines, cuz I'm double, Spanish honies say Roberto f** that, I buck that b**h n***a from your borough {Chadeeo} Well lyrical gats, at the smalls of my back In facts, I pack extras up in my napsacks Greenbacks, let me layin back and relax Gainin riches, b**hes just by kickin the mere fact {Yogi} n***a I can make ya speaker shake Make ya break, now ya upstate gettin raped While I'm home makin hits That smokin so much weed that I start hearin sh** Interlude: Yogi (Chadeeo) Aiyo, f** is that sh** yo (what?) You hear that sh** (what?) Don't f** with me, ya n***as hear that sh** Ya n***as f** with (yo chill, man take it) Chorus 4X: The Mighty Ha (Yogi) Rhythem Blunt Cru, knockin at the door (Nothin but the rough, rugged & hardcore) {Black Rob} Jack call Yopes, so I stay to bring the metal To my job on 34th, I got some beef with these devils Automatic weapons, f** askin n***as questions Leave them torn, as the justice cypher born then we steppin {Chadeeo} All rise, parental discreation is advised And be wise, cuz one who fronts is one who dies Smoke buddah by the mic, just like a barracuda Flush the Cru to the ground like Roto Rooter {Yogi} A fight, a fight, a n***a and a white If a n***a don't win, we all jump in Wanna be me, but you can't see me Cuz I don't rap like Michael Jackson those little wee-wees Uck it, bottom line, top of the page Loves to f** a big body b**h like Rage Runnin thru uptown like I don't got no sense And Frederick K. Price couldn't find no evidence {Black Rob} Yo I make the grade, now I'm crazy paid n***as watch me close like m**ms in the World Trade Center, represent the click in the city Blowin up the spot, like silicone titties {Chadeeo} Try to defeat beat, n***a ya dead wrong Too head strong, and got a 38 leg long So f** around, lay around on the wet ground By the tray pound, and these sick n***as from uptown Let me clear my throat now