The LOX Fuck You Lyrics

We Are the Streets Track Listing
  • 1 Intro (skit)
  • 2 Fuck You
  • 3 Can I Live (feat. Kasino)
  • 4 Built for Bodies (skit)
  • 5 Breathe Easy
  • 6 Felony Niggas
  • 7 Wild Out
  • 8 Blood Pressure
  • 9 Recognize
  • 10 Rape'n U Records (skit)
  • 11 Y'all Fucked Up Now
  • 12 Scream L.O.X.
  • 13 U Told Me (feat. Eve)
  • 14 Brains... (take: 1) (skit)
  • 15 Ryde or Die, Bitch (feat. Drag-On & Eve)
  • 16 Bring It On
  • 17 If You Know (feat. Swizz Beatz, Drag-On & Eve)
  • 18 We are the Streets
  • Shit
    Feel this

    If your hoped we wouldn't make it, fuck you (fuck you)
    Talk with a heart full of hatred, fuck you (fuck you)
    And you said we wouldn't cake it, fuck you (fuck you)
    Only my man blood is sacred, cocksucker, fuck you

    Yo, everybody's a snake
    That's why I try to keep the grass cut
    So I can see 'em when they coming
    Then I heat they ass up
    Cuz' them niggas that you went to school with
    Will catch you while you in your new whip
    And turn your brains into Cool Whip
    Niggas that you running round getting ass with
    Ain't gon' help you do nothing but carry your casket
    Got the nerve to ask Kiss why I smoke so much
    And how I'm such a young nigga that seem to know so much
    While you was running round pumping for niggas
    I was listening
    And you still pumping for niggas
    I'm coming through visiting
    You heard, L-O-X came through in a yellow Lex
    And hop out with the Air Force One's with yellow checks
    And you liable to see me Dolo, icing the Rolo
    Burner under the Polo, alot of y'all is homos
    Funny style niggas never down with me
    Type that go to the bathroom, sit down and pee
    I'll empty your house, back of your cribs, smacking your kids
    Bullets going through your leather, cracking your ribs
    Don't even hit me on my hip if I ain't give you a call
    And I ain't got a home phone number, I live on the road
    Now I'm getting bigger checks, conference calls with bigger 'xecs
    Bigger bracelets with bigger begets,
    Fuck y'all
    All I do is get high, and think of faving you all
    Motherfuckers hit 'cha knees and just pray to the Lord
    I'd rather die today than live tomorrow
    Then watch you crab motherfuckers just steal and ball
    Put in my work, you might get put in a church
    Funeral time, everybody kissing the corpse
    Learn the ropes, stone rip if you soft, you pissing me off
    Call me S.P., and I spit on your boss
    You can die cause this shit might happen to me
    But I'mma still happen to be, packin the 3
    Fuck with bitches that be wrappin the keys
    And the niggas that bug over drug money, clappin the D
    Shoot in the breeze, 9 in the boot, full of trees
    1 in the morning, catch me with a gun on the corner
    Let you know it's all real and you can front if you wanna
    I understand, fuck it dog, die in the can
    I say you pussy, you won't die for your right-hand man
    As well as your left, niggas trip, fell into death
    They touch you, only thing else to say is fuck you
    [Sheek Luchion]
    A-yo, y'all niggas ain't hardcore, all my niggas is homicide
    What you know about getting shot, letting the drip dry
    Letting the spit fly, seeing sparks whiz by
    Putting a M*A*S*H on niggas like Klinger and Horgi
    So soft you smushy, I blast 'til your shit is gushy
    Should be the head Cat in the Broadway play, you pussy
    Fuck with Sheek, Ouija board spell "Death"
    You can talk that beef shit, I hope that deep shit
    Be as deep as you inside the fucking cement
    Or you can deep sea dive, with no scuba gear
    I'll drown you with your snorkel on, bitch, breathe out of there
    Whole team rich, never seen a summer like this
    Baking hot, and you can sled ride down my wrist, neck, and hand
    When it comes to coke, I can make a snowman, shit
    Play in this shit make a angel with it
    And I don't give a fuck about that 380 that y'all share
    Between the 10 y'all with the same 8 bullets from last year
    When I bust I use snubs, denim flee in the spot
    The hand I write with need a oven glove, my shit so hot
    I want the most, Roley only work when it's next to my post
    Fuck a present gimme a yacht master, regular bezzy
    Then I'm good when I'm in the hood and I'm on the block
    You got a gut feeling about shit, nigga, that means you shot, what

    If you hoped we wouldn't make it, fuck you
    Talk with a heart full of hatred, fuck you
    And you said we wouldn't cake it, fuck you
    Only my man's blood is sacred, cocksucker, fuck you

    I'll tell you in your face, fuck you
    Pull it off my waist, hit you up, fuck you
    And watch you die on the street, fuck you
    Whoever feel sad at the funeral, fuck them too

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