LYRICS
How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? X4
All black gloves, black mask, here we go again
The traps goin' slow,
So I'm kickin' ****ers doors again
Them ****ers bitches soft, so the dealers goin' hard for it
I'm off in the truck, call up Buck,
He got the hard for it
I got scopes on the AR,
Make it easy to just pop at you
The first talkin' **** boy, then we hit to rob at you
Won't hesitate to pull it out, empty out a clip
Heard your partner got the cannons,
So I'm tryin' to hit a lick
I ain't got to contemplate it,
See I'm down to demonstrate it
I'm a DTP ****er, G-Unit affiliated
Got a clique full of street ****ers, ready for the shit
And a crib full of thick hoes, down for the joint
Tell them pretty ****ers, here we come
Lay it down, G it up
Extra clips, extra round, pick a clown, hit 'em Buck
Hit 'em with that semi, or bust with that revolver
How the hell you robbers, gonna rob a robber?
How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? x8
Snatch ****ers out their Chevies in traffic,
I'm a savage
The devil made me do it ****er, I gotta have it
I'm hoppin' out this Escalade, chopper in my hand
I catch the ones that I can,
And start poppin' at they man
They say the hood wanna kill me,
The police want me locked up
So I just take their jewelry, every time I pop up
My album went platinum, and yeah, the ****ers still jackin'
I ain't lyin' or actin',
It's just that I love it with a passion
You should these ****ers faces with the
.40's on they shorties
Have they ass breakin' up
Like this ****er game ain't for me (oh)
So, come on ****er bitch, bring it if you that hard
And watch when you come home,
I'll be layin' in your backyard
****ers turn to trackstars, runnin' when we comin'
See, them beepers see me do it,
But they don't know who done it
Ay 20, make sure you tell that ****er Luda, I'm a shoota'
So if he got a problem with them cowards,
Bring me through there
How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? x8
.45 in the crevice of the 'Lac seat
Hummin, comin' right at ya
These hollows will make you think you at a track meet
Boys hit the back street
I'm ridin shotgun, with a shotgun
.45 in the crevice of the 'Lac seat
Hummin, comin' right at ya
These hollows will make you think you at a track meet
Boys hit the back street
I'm ridin shotgun, with a shotgun
****ers hit the back seat
Chickens wanna act sweet
Cause of my candy-coated paint and size 24 shoes
I call 'em Shaq's feet, rollin' 20 Lacs deep
Whoever want it, we done it
At 2100 Jack-U street
So hide-ya hide-ya wallet-wallet
Tuck-ya tuck-ya chain-chain
I don't wanna, **** it **** it
Chicka-chicka bang-bang
Ain't no way to try to stop it, or numb the pain-pain
Cause this ain't no mother****ing video game-game
But I can empty the cartridge,
While you mother****ing and fussin'
Grab the sticks of extra clips and press the reset button
Put you on the front page of you the latest edition
Tell the robbers I'm the greatest addition
Mother****er!