Poly Sci (1998)

John Forte Lyrics

John Forte - They Got MeLyrics

Highlight a quote that may not be obvious and you would like to explain it or ask for an explanation.Click the highlighted quote to explain it or the highlighted to see other explanations.
They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them They got me fearin' the pen, 'cause I don't want to go in It's going on-and-n-on-and-n-on- again! Yo, call my lawyer They ran up on me son, ain't nothin' for ya Two shots, my allabies, I'm with Joe and De La Hoya Fight on, ran up in the crib and turned the lights on Yo get this, Mothafucka! I don't leave no witness Like Larry Fishburne, I'll meet in Hawthorne, pushin' lefts With no signal light on, yo word bond, I know the shit's on! Called Don Cartagena from the Pilan Yo be war, lawyers and attorneys trying to hurt me Indeed I, feel stressed Clutched my shorty's chest smokin' C.I.'s Truth or die, shoot the five, uncivilized to B.Y.'s Muffled lives, like a pit bull at will Sit still, or you're shook real, y'all niggas need to get real, or get killed! The 4-fifth, call the men still, alcohol's never distilled A hundred proof vest, bulletproof! They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them Ungh, yeah yeah, I live a plush life Nothin' on my wrist, crushed ice Bumpin' the heist, in the GS with the bug lights Just us guys, tough guys, the puff lye Cut up pies from night, 'til the sunrise If one of us dies, his fam gets a share Every man's treated fair, no one's getting his hand kissed in the chair We all shine as individuals, ex-criminals, we trained to not hate you for the Residuals Now his interludes, reflecting how we was reppin' Snappin' necks-nigga, Charging the mob for our protection I'm still rejecting offers from half the forces A corner office, and ten percent of all extortion's I'm still enforcing, but only when it's close to home Do it for Tony, he taught me how to hold my own But now I'm fully grown, and I got dreams of my own My whole team on the throne, living like kings out of Rome It's on! They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them Uh, yeah, yo For the right price I'll put any rapper on ice Over three gods, Terror Squad'll cough 'em up real nice Send him to Christ, taking his life's not a problem I've been robbin' niggas and pullin' triggas way before my album Drowning my sorrows with bottles of Moe Anybody can go, lose your control, end up a John Doe You didn't know, my shit is game tight The insane type to bust open your brain with a drainpipe It ain't right, but I don't give a, uh! Me and Punisher contemplate your death, like the governor My red dot that make ya head hot, disgusting wet spot Blood gushing down your bumbleclot dreadlocks! Ayo Joe! We suffocating with the headlock Let's fly the kite to his Ma You leave the key inside the breadbox I hold the toaster, Fugee-Camou coats and penny loafers Glass table meetings with Dons, I'm nice wit' mine No time to be fair, I build in this square I'm holdin' it there, my corporation's like a million in share The gat push weak niggas back, from Brownsville to Flat bush 9- double 1 dialing shorty wildin' She tryin' to send the god up to the island Like the rest of my fam, the best of the damned The Beast, who locked the rest of my men's Lease a tenant, four pounds are fingerprinted Louisville's aluminum invented, some dumb scent it and peppermint it! They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them They got me killin' with them They got me sinnin' with them Smokin' drum, holdin' arms, bustin' guns with them We're just thugs for life Bustin' slugs for life Forte', Brownsville, Gun tec unite Fat Joe, BX you know the shit stay tight Cap's casings, blast faces, and do what you like! Cap's casings, blast faces, and do what you like! My son drive a bust guns, though the shit ain't right We're just thugs for life, bustin' slugs for life Forte'! Brownsville! Gun tec, unite! (Brownsville! BX!) Forte'!
Listen

You May Also Like

What do you think about this song?
No Comments. Be the first!

Choose a playlist cover.

    John Forte - They Got Me listen