Master P - Slangin' lyrics

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Master P - Slangin' lyrics

[Master P] Yo, what's up n***a, this the colonel, MP But uh, Fiend n***a, it's your muthaf**in time to shine You gon mix this sh** up with Bun B and Pimp C U.G.K. and Fiend? This straight for all the n***as in the hood n***as on the corner, every n***a in the penitentitary n***a, this busta muthaf**in free. This for all the real n***as and b**hes out there, ya heard me? No Limit style Told y'all muthaf**as ain't No Limit [Bun B] You muthaf**a, I don't feel where you comin from I don't like your zone, b**h, your microphone b**h Your tone switch sound like you wanna dig your own ditch It's my pleasure to bring the shovel You been lookin for trouble So me and C and Fiend gon bust your bubble on the double Hut one, hut two, march n***a, fire off that torch n***a Straighten it out like starch n***a When I'm parched n***a, take a sip of some kerosene Mixed with promythosene, turn your block to a terror scene sh** you ain't never seen Twenty millimeter tank rounds eatin up everything Nowhere to run, hide, or back down I put my mack down, picked up my a** kicker Cause it blast thicker, hose and get off in that a** quicker The last n***a figured, he had a chance To make it to that chopper, sh** in his pants Make the murder man dance We shine like clusters, to leave you in the dust Cause we tryin, to get rid a all you haters And you muthaf**in bustas [Chorus:(1) Fiend] Boy, we down south bangin Rollin with these hustlers Tryin to get rid a you hatas and you bustas [Chorus:(2) Fiend] X 3 Down south slangin Rollin with these hustlers Tryin to get rid a you hatas and you bustas [Pimp C] I got the c**aine lady, white lady, by the key I get them whole for ten, double up for seventeen Two outta one, step on it to win They essay's is my partna, mafia stamp on the end Two block solid, each one worth one I rock it up my seven and I chop it up with Bun A pocket fulla stones, hollin bout a wrong Smokin, ridin dirty, got a chip up in my cellphone Keep this sh** pumped Get to pop the trunk Feelin light headed off some California skunk And b**h I come from Texas and love that sh** to lean I'm down with Dj Screw and b**h it's U.G.K. and Fiend And we ridin with some k**as, n***as bout they drama Pimp like a wheelers, and b**hes like pirahnas I'm sweet James Jones, a pimp and a hustler Tryin to get rid a all you hatas And you muthaf**in p**y a** bustas [Chorus:(2)] X 4 [Fiend] What's the sense of it all? Pimpin, powder, and p**y tryin to make pennies Payin off, so friendly to flip with my people give me If any doubt, the south, in every show today, blown away From the wrong way, I'm k**in these n***as the Jones way Let the psalm say, he died as a hata Sooner than later, shoulda pop em since the incubator My life is droppin heron, at the sharon Lookin, d**h dead on Knowin I was dead wrong From the sad songs, have you been to my city? If you ain't got sh**ty, everything is far from pretty But I'm one bad f**er that's always claimin tank n***as know N.O., dank, and elevate My rank, what you call it? Bustin out the Expedition Fiend pimpin, blowin up corns coke and cat emissions My livin, resist the No Limit and stashin a duster Servin the cluckers, poppin it undercover We gettin rid a bustas [Chorus:(2)] X 6