Shyne Godfather Lyrics

Godfather Lyrics

Artist : Shyne Feat. Foxy Brown
Album : Godfather Buried Alive
Song :
Godfather

Uh huh, Uh huh, Brooklyn Vietnam
What you, Uh yeah, Uh,
Come on

Oh no, big Shyne Po
Back up in the motherfuckin heezy for
sheezy
Gimme a tech that don't jam (bang bang)
I'm tryin to jucks some
more grams and work this whole thing
My minds poisoned, corrupted and
diseased
360 ki's
Money make the world spin
I make your chest
smoke
Have your mother singing hymms
Particles of your brains up on your
tims
Kiss you before I twist you
170 miles
Headed for disaster
faster
I put it down right
Bustin off these rounds like
Real niggaz is
kings
You ain't rockin' that crown right
Harder more PK
watches
Topless, bitches in cars
Only meals could heal my
scars

[Chorus]
Niggaz wanna rhyme like shine like me
They supposed
to
Niggaz wanna bust their guns like me
They supposed to
Niggaz wanna
grind like crime like me
They supposed to
Niggaz wanna mash like me, dash
like me

[Repeat]

Allegations got me pacin'
Grand jury wouldn't
understand my fury
For fast cars and jewelry
I could give a fuck if
there's a heaven for a G
This is heaven for me
Go to trial never
plea
Do a bullet and come home to the throne
I don't rhyme, I just talk
about this life that's mine
I've seen niggaz die, in front of my
eyes
Doin' my filth
Niggaz is expiring like milk
Different strokes for
different folks
Just give me, different coke in different boats
Black
Aristotle Onassis
All I see is crack addicts and automatics
You rap
niggaz is faggots
Y'all cannot be serious
I'm in coupes with gucci
interiors
Airin' out your areas
Tech nines, two in the flex and
shit
Lookin' at myself like
Yo, I'm the best in this

[Chorus
x2]

Sometimes I really wonder
What's it all about?
How many
bitches can I fuck until I get out
How many ki's can I cut, guns can I
bust
Wigs can I push, spots can I juck
Every single one, cuz I'm a
fuckin' savage
Til I'm cremated, most hated, self made
Blood type
G
All these young hustlers wanna bubble like me
They supposed
to
Sippin on syrup, until I perish
Pickin' bitches off the
run-way
Look forward to, gun-play
Go to sleep with one eye shut
Wake
up and do the same shit
I ain't never gonna change bitch
And that's the
cycle
I don't wanna be like Michael
More like Darrell Porter
Gettin'
shipments at the border

Yeah, it's a wrappity wrap

[Chorus x4]