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Correct 100 Bars Of Death Lyrics
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Ya Boy
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Correct 100 Bars Of Death
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Lyrics:
[Intro: 2Pac] I'm not saying I'm gonna change the world But I guarantee that I will spark the brain That will change the world [Verse 1: Ya Boy] Better show respect before I lose it The whole world know Precise is more than music A movement, look at all the goons that I move with Homies, guns, vest & boots on that platoon shit Best, hardest in the West, yes, literally The fans comparing me to who? Come on, ya killing me The enemy keep trying, but can't get rid of me Bombs like Timothy, arms like a centipede Hoes through his door, make sure he's a memory One nigga, but I got 'em shook like there's ten of me Go hard in hip-hop, hope they remember me Screamin' "Thug Life" like a 2Pac Mini-Me Any beef? Tell 'em to bring it special delivery I bet my little friend will put 'em outta his misery These niggas wanna finish me and send me to the Reverend Honestly, there's probably better competition in heaven Holla at me, Fillmore bitch, we dollar happy You would think I was strippin' the way hoes throw dollars at me I'm the ma'fuckin' spiteful, delightful, iteful The new Ice Cube, bust my guns and rock mics too So what's good? Either you Crip or you Blood Somebody call Khaled, tell 'em "Ya Boy was hood" If he joke like DeRay, my heat like D. Wade Shots to his face, make him sing like T-Pain Stuff him in the trunk, then I dump the remains Nowadays all that rappin' is is a free chain If a nigga ever look at me as a free chain He's not gonna make it like his plane got delayed I'm talking to the real, if you fake, then get lost Them block musclemen, hustlin' like Rick Ross Real talk, I'd rather sit than snitch dawg Cause quick jaws get a nigga smoked like menthols I'm way outta they league, who hotter than me? Gotcha favorite R&B bitch swallowin' me I ain't lyin', look I'm so fly I should be flyin' Maybe that's the reason why ya girl keep eyein' I'm eyein' her back, Louie purse with the hat I'm not a trick, but I'm rich, so I'm buyin' her that And I'm tired of this rap beef, tired of that gay shit I thought he wanted war, he seen me and didn't say shit I'm outta this world, when you see me I'm like a spaceship Lights everywhere, make it bright anywhere Got the sun on my neck, full moon on my wrist Da-da-diamonds in my mouth and it's all on a bitch I guess I took notes from Kevin Federline, every time Milk a bitch like a cow, every cent, every dime Never been to jail, but I done done hella crimes Moved to Malibu, now I got 'em thuggin' in Pepperdine Gimme mine, if a nigga say I ain't the top five Dead or alive, remove his head and his spine I load the lead in the nine and leave him dead on arrival You sittin' on the shelf, what the fuck did you sign for? Catch me with the Crips and the Bloods don't mind, no I don't bang colors, I'm a damn albino Drunk like a wino, hard like a rhino Flyin' through ya time zone, looking for a fine ho Rihanna, Alicia, Mya, big pimpin' I'll even take a white girl like Jessica Simpson Make sure she licks it, kiss my Limp Bizkit Tape it, need a witness, this is big business I'm heavy with SRCs like Steve Rifkind I'm talkin' some real clientele, nigga listen! Drop 'em a line, that's all I do is go fishin' Get 'em hooked on me then I turn 'em into fish sticks This is -- 100 BARS OF DEATH if ya listenin' I ain't like these other niggas, I can go the distance Ya fans in my hands, so you know that I'ma clinch it The rap game dirty, but somebody gotta rinse it I don't even spit shit, I just go and rip shit That's why these hoes put me on like lipstick That's why these hoes put Ya Boy on they hit list Swag like a ma'fucka, I'm the new Slick Rick La-di-da-di, sawed-off shawty Ridin' through the hood, bout' to flip somebody "How you rap like that?" It's just somethin' 'bout me I step in the booth and the shit just comes at me Niggas wanna shoot me, niggas wanna rob me Fuck that, .40 cal here right beside me Niggas can't deny he, hotter than Mojave... ...Desert in the middle of summer, let's have ménage I be, killin' other rappers like a hobby Niggas take pictures of women like they surround me I don't even trip, I don't block no head I tell them hoes, "Do me," like Rocko said But you can get up outta here if you ain't got no bread Cause even my bed, got a Ferragamo spread, yeah I mean Scrooge McDuck bucks And if a nigga say I ain't nice then he probably get butt fucked I catch you in the hood all I'll say is "tough luck" Don't holla "Precise Gang," ya get fucked up What-what? Cut a nigga up like Nip/Tuck You might as well kill ya self like a wrist cut And everybody in the whole hood know it's us The way them doors no longer swing, they lift up The way them boys gon' do they things with big bucks Big homes, big diamond rings and big trucks Despite that, I'm tryna sell like Mike Jack I even get the fans that don't like rap Keep it a hundred, so it's a must I write that Spit so much crack The Feds got the mic tapped [Outro] Yeah, holla at me PRECISE GANG! YA BOY! I suggest you keep me healthy West Coast West Coast, I suggest you keep me healthy Haha! Y.B I'm on one InfaRed on this ma'fucka Yeah, come on
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