DJ Kay Slay - You Heard of Us (Remix) lyrics

Published

0 209 0

DJ Kay Slay - You Heard of Us (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: Sheek Louch] Yeah! Streetsweepers!!! Aiyyo Kay Slay I've been wantin to say this right! THIS IS THE REMIX! YEAH! [Hook: Ray J] Yeah I know you heard of us, the murderous, most shady D-Block, Ray J you better watch your lady We pop bottles in the club on the daily And I buss a n***a head if he ever try to play me [Verse One: Sheek Louch] OWWWWWW!!! Lower the semi the engine is Henny Playin Big Pun on my way from visitin Remy (Hold ya head ma!) Yeah I need juice, sour diesel and dark shades Liquor in my cup, doin 90 on the Palisades Hammer on my waist, act stupid then it's right in your face (WHATTUP!) Sheek crazier than Max B losin his case (IT'S WAVY BABY!!!) One DJ, two turntables, no replay Women love your boy (HELLO!!!) Sheek Cool J [Verse Two: Bully] Rookie on the block a veteran with a Glock I ain't Big or Pac Bully got his own lane Yeah I'm with The LOX but Bully got his own brain Two dancers with me like the homey Daddy Kane I like D.O.A. but holla at me T-Pain Yeah I'm big but my shooters the size of Lil' Wayne (Mini!) Keep the fame, I take another zero on it It ain't unless the Ghost, Pinero's on it [Verse Three: Styles P] Dolla bills and good chron', hood don Keys when the LOX there, f** n***a pop (Pop off!) Knockin Biggie in the new whip, roofless Ain't Cool J, but the play god witta pool stick +In Too Deep+, way too street Talkin peace, save that sh** for the Hindu's beef (C'mon, B!) My gun long, from the bed to where the window reach (Leave that alone...) Talk to sh** to D-Block n***a and end yo' speech, b**h! [Verse Four: Jadakiss] EH-HEEEEEH!!! Yeah, yo... They all hatin, even the ones gettin money They all Satan and go both ways, they all datin (haha) Shorty wit the doobie in the car waitin (Hold on...) You know the god, I'm M6 and the R8'n 'F' the world, in other words, screw the nation My word play is excruciatin (pain) These n***as is just hallucinatin, and keep tweekin But I'm the trustee, so it's job The Street Sweeper, what! [Verse Five: Tony Yayo] I k** a snake in the gra** I'm the mongoose One phone call boy let the goons loose (BOOM!) Then Kay got a hundred round verse I need a hundred on the show I need 50 on a verse Yeah! I got the riches But a n***a need God in his life for them spiritual wishes fu*k b*tchES!!! Look at what they did to McNair These rappers lookin like a bunch of ants in a Leer Everybody wanna be on Every hooper in the hood wanna be the boy that dunked on LeBron Like Jordan, Xavier, you can have that girl I ain't savin her I'm like Rakin n***a, I Move The Crowd R.I.P. To Michael Jackson moonwalkin in clouds Yeah the Full ten loud so forget that three eighty D-Block and G-Unit we the most shady!!! [Verse Six: Bun B] II Trill is in the building! Hide ya broad And tuck ya chain, you lyin to lame, we goin hard! (Goin hard!) We rollin deep and we known to put the pressure down (Down!) You not built for this business, don't make me test you clown (Clown!) Pound for pound, I'm the best thang spittin Stay throwed, stay hittin in the fresh outfit and It's hard to do it like me (me) When my Jordans' don't come out 'til Christmas And my Nike's is iD (D!) Me a hater? Why be one? Please! I tell you what, playa, slap a hater when you see one (One!) The streets we run, I don't mean joggin Talkin 'bout break bread or get it in the noggin We in the house like a recluse And while you drinkin Gatorade, we sippin Trill O.G. Juice Get it poppin from the get-go, slow it down Like you out of petro 'fore them shooters let go [Verse Seven: Papoose] How you 'gon see me on a E-Dubb track? Your album was a brick call it re-up rap You don't got no street knowledge you don't build Leg shooter claimin you so real How you gonna shoot a n***a in his calf muscle you don't k** Your bullets go to the Cavs like Shaquille O'Neal Gotta find ways that we all could eat So we move that white girl like Dawson's Creek Rappers is unstable so they thoughts is weak I'm stable like the places where the horses sleep Yeah they got grams but they grams just ain't right My grams is like a hammerhead shark, great white When I'm bangin at you homey I ain't the leg type I'll head tap 'em like a b**h do when the braids tight Think you hot cause they log on to your fake site?! I wanna see if they can log on to your grave site [Verse Eight: Lloyd Banks] Uh, Prada good in 80s', new Mercedes, few ladies New York City's baby, got the projects goin crazy Pay me everything up front, we got the pumper money happy Look at me, my earrings POP like Pappy Get at me! I'm chromey, make it shake all by my lonely I done bust so many bottles, now the wattress want boney Trick on me, her miss cologne me, her favorite homey I'm stoney, she'll David Blow-me as I get cozy Play the corner like posey, frozey, with a u-zi Hennessy and Rosie, can't a single woman hold me Guns don't stop bullets, so err'body packin One boy, you ain't strapped, you done, won't be long 'fore the casket come There's ya mourning god, hood hero, fallen star Local broad, fallin car, Chronic out the jar To my table of the bar, model stay but I'm star Livin god, bar for bar, haters stop me, naw! [Hook: Ray J] Yeah I know you heard of us, the murderous, most shady D-Block, Ray J you better watch your lady We pop bottles in the club on the daily And I buss a n***a head if he ever try to play me