We Got Cha Opin (part 2) Lyrics

We Got Cha Opin (part 2) lyrics

[Featuring Buckshot]
(Rah Digga)
I be the worst like Nick
To all them
mc thugs
Like them 4 little kids
And the teacher gettin plugged
I
don't give a fuck style
Tell me come jiggy
I rock kix and
swishees
Coppin moet wit 2 counterfeit 50's
What?
Dirty girl rhyme
spit mucous
Speech uncoothe
And raise the roof like Lukas
12 years
done rocked through all phases
Watch your peeps scream the bitch was the
blazest
(Spliff Starr)
Niggas run they mouth about my click
Not
smart
I bust your bloodclot
Then drop you upon the
sidewalk
(Chi-chi-chi-Blow!!!)
Hit ya ass wit a vicious blow
You know
my style
Spliff the foul
Through your stereo
Spliff Starr ignorant
immigrant
I'm gettin it
Money, fast car, fine broads, what
I'm hittin
it (that's right)
Raw shit i'm spittin it
At you and yours
Make you
feel the pain nigga
Like the dick to your balls
Thug blood
fluid
Pumpin in the face of my music
Drop the street shit
Watch the
whole world rock to it
Nigga Squad!!!
(Baby Sham)
Squad had em
opin
Had his bitch scopin
Sittin by the bar
Sippin Heinken's
totein
Pinky rings glowin
Triple beams to the club
My man is half
thug
Giving me pound and holdin grudge
Feelin my shit
So I can put a
lock on your clik
Your style is past tense
Hold on, Hold on
You just
started rappin
Ever since you heard the shit
We fuckin wit it's
platinum
Slow your growth
Stop the show
Go at you both
Hit you with
more bars than soap
Sham is the name
Feelin invain
Fiendin for
dope
(Buckshot)
Yeah, you know we got cha opin!!!
Hook:
Don't
front, you know we got cha opin kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin
kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid
Don't front, you know we
got cha opin kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid
Yo, stop
frontin, you know we got cha opin kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin
kid
Stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid
(Ramoage)
Niggas made
me mad
And now I wanna clap shit (Uh)
I reign supreme in this muthafuckin
rap shit
I lost my mind
I can't get it back
The way that I'm spittin,
yo
I spit ya fuckin wig back
Don't front, my squad got you opin
Hit
you with a buck fifty
Here's a token
Ramp is smokin
I'm no joke
and
I leave your face broken
This is survival of the fittest
Get wit
us
All you critics and bullshitters
My nine goes bang
I'm talkin
street slang
I'm reppin Flipmode
Plus I'm doing my thang
On the
side
We won't let it ride
Nigga don't hide
(Lord Have
Mercy)
Landlord innovator
Switch lanes no indicator
The general, cash
generator
Master and saviour
Nigga stay massive in nature
When tooth
shatter ya die bone
In the savage cyclone of cops, sirens, and cases
Who
read the bible for basics?
When I'm crooked eye with rivals
Horizontal in
God's places
Suspicious of all
Now who dat???
Quick on the draw
Lick
a paw
For loved ones blood runs cold in the winter wars
Check the criminal
thoughts
Villains warp with the invisible force
Know the ledge
Stay
focused like photo lens
And spread wings like Cobra heads
Till I'm old
and dead
(Busta)
Hot shit, toxic
You know we blocks shit
Traffic in
the streets system
All in your jeep knocks shit
Julio for no reason back
the fifth
And he cocks it
Rock shit, we make niggas mad
And wanna pop
shit
Massive and attractive
Niggas is captive
Chemotherapy
needed
Lyrics radioactive
When I hit hard
It get my dick hard
In my
backyard
Analyze the stars
On how to defeat all odds
In a new
zone
I'm on a new phone
Make most of the wackest rapper niggas
Wanna
find a new home
Like Rasco jeans
My style flip two-tone
Pass my blue
chrome
Here's one of the best of Busta Rhymes own
My debut made
you
Wonder who
Shit blazes so much
You wish you could play out
So
you could blaze, too
Before I shout you
Or give reason to doubt you
I
study shit and re-analyze everything about you
My rhymes on the
preserve
Niggas know we deserve
Everything up in your stash and in the
reserve
Fuck that!!!
Hook up all my lyrics on the echos and the
re-verbs
Never fuck with these herbs
My squad remains
superb
(Buckshot)
(Heh) Walkin thru the streets
Undercovers follow us,
stress
Muthafuckas on the regular to bust
Trust us
We don't get
enough
Nigga wha-what?
Dirty baggy jeans
Black napsack with something
for ya gut
Wooly-type skully
Fully strapped, black bulletproof, and
match
Quick,
Whip up a batch
Of bullets to blow up the
map
Shit
Collapse, perhaps doing this in the raps
In the long time, ya
trapped
Buck make em react
God verse attack
Let em know the moon is
still black
And it's a fact...
Don't front, you know we got cha opin,
kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid
Don't front, you know we
got cha opin, kid
Yo stop frontin, ya know we got cha opin
Don't front,
you know we got cha opin, yo
Don't front, you know we got cha opin,
kid
Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid
Yo stop frontin, you know
we got cha opin
Huh, word life
Mad niggas opin
Yeah, word
life
Flipmode, muthafuckin Buckshot
Mad niggas scopin
Buck to ya
brain!!!!!