top 100
·
top new
·
updates
·
submit lyrics
#
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
Correct Sucka MC's Lyrics
Lyrics
►
Artists: S
►
Slaughterhouse
►
Correct Sucka MC's
Artist:
Song:
Comment:
Lyrics:
[Intro] Sometimes you gotta wonder Maybe it's the competitive nature of the game The story kills them [Verse 1: Freeway] This is the way the story goes, when you in it for the dough And you swinging for the fence, close friends'll turn to foes Act just like hoes, want you to get the dinner for 'em Niggas trying to slow; walk me but I been up on 'em Partly cause part of me got love for 'em But a part of me got a slug for 'em It's hard for me, he was there from the start of me Shared gear, see part of me still cares But part of me feels, he 'bout to try to come to my house to slaughter me Wait 'til I hit the balcony, then Dr. Martin me This heart full of larceny, they think I'm the dollar tree Since I'm the nigga with the weight and they ain't They're like P90X trying to make me lose calories State Prop chain-gang maintain salary Freezer sends his goons through hourly, devouring It's just the Philly in me Word to Joey crack, jealous ones envy, sucka MC's Fuck haters, get cheese [Hook x2] I can see my friends Turn green with envy (Jealous ones envy, sucka MC's Fuck haters, get cheese) [Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9"] I said, with friends like these, who needs enemies Inside this evil industry, where the green breeds greed, envy, and schemes Of being easy, dreams of seeing me up under guillotines But the desert eagle I'm bringing with me can be it's wings It's supposed to be 'bout respect Your boys will catch you spend some of your dough and then they'll count the rest And bounce before you can bounce a check He not jealous, he just wants you to split whatever you get with him And all that he sees is all that you bought and it sticks with him The snake in the grass from the garden of Eden, it bit him The first recorded sin, for 4 to 10 to 25 to life I can quote stories of lead from the top of my head like I don't write Drunk and high on life, I learned to back up my own hype When I had to steal back my own bike, pastor's on me like "pass the collection plates" of white on rice God fearing, my only flaw's my giving heart It's not conducive to being frugal and living smart Maybe I'll die dumb Leaving behind a beautiful corpse known for my hand on my balls like Cy Young Eyes numb from constantly staying open And constantly being haunted by promises they broken We supposed to get money [Hook x2] [Verse 3: Crooked I] The bottom of a vodka bottle describes my drink behavior You're far from biblical scriptures if you're thinking a drink can save ya What happens when your semen donor leaves the streets to raise ya? You raise your heat, ready to go HAM like Lincoln Abra Eh bruh, I know this stripper Who was talking to this nigga, who was talking while he tipped her Bout to zippers, he be flipping to get them chippers He told her about his stash, slip of the tongue off the liquor Yeah I used to dick her, now I call her my play sister Yeah, we can trust her, we can bust in on that buster while he's with her With a ski mask, gloves and snubs doing it like a crook should Slapped the bitch up a couple of times to make it look good He said, "Damn, Crooked, you frozen cold" When I'm broke, these are the types of thoughts that overload my dome When I'm alone I done dirt that I never ever even told a soul But my soul knows Ortiz, I need to slow my role [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz] You little suckers, mu'fucka I put a verse from everyone of you dud busters 'n Fuddruckers Got swinging but going nowhere; mud putters Walking 'round all sour you little bud puffers I'm done dudda, shottas, poppa I let the gun stutter, clap that booty, niggas, I'll gun butt ya One mother, no father, no sisters, no brother Couple cousins, why bother, I'm one of one plus, uh Who gives a fuck about the next man, my jet land Your face all blue, orange, you're mad like a Mets fan I'm Brooklyn, like the Atlantic Ave. Nets and I run with wildcats like the next season's Jet plans Feel the fire like Rex-man You make one half of Smith & Wesson sign to Russell, you're tech jam This is rusty ain't been popped in forever My Glock sever your top better not diddy bop through my block in your lever Pussy [Hook]
add rows