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Thursday, 26 November 2015
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The L.O.X. - Lyrics

DJ Clue - Show Me The Money - Album

Chest To Chest


Intro: Styles

Dj Clue. Desert Storm style baby. What nigga


L-O-X, chest to chest, back to back

glock for glock, Mac for Mac

Dope and crack is what we sling do things you talk about

player fuck around and catch a slug in your mouth

Verse One: Jadakiss

It's a shame he can rhyme, nigga loves crime

every late night he's outside with the nine

You ain't got chips, fuck the world

you got chips, you can fuck the next mans girl

Sounds harsh but they been ripped apart my world

Where thugs could rule

and selling crack was cool

Knocked off hundred packs brought stacks to school

No diploma, weed aroma nigga half coma

know the tricks of the class see my ass on the corner

You ain't ate shit 'til y'all tasted life

had my moms screaming "Jay don't waste your life"

But me and my Ace is tight

moving base at night

Lace your nights, you see Narcs jet

I'll meet in the morning in the park doing sets

And when it's dark again

we'll let the 9s spark again

Y'all know the dogs

niggaz stay moving out the fog

And when it's war we ain't gonna call on the Lord

I'll hit 'em like the board when I split 'em with my sword

You fear what you hear so nigga press record

from here on out we ain't tryin' to be ignored

L.O.X. drop shit that make niggaz mop shit

you wanna pop shit, nigga, pop clips

Verse Two: Styles Paniro

Too many niggaz shake me, life is shaky

I act like this cuz they make me probably hate me

Nigga, I'm in the dictionary look me up

express art from my heart, baby cook me up

I'm the crack in your tape deck

I'm the burner on your waist that'll leave the place wet

I'm the money in the safe that'll pay the case debt

I'm the jewels on your neck that'll make these dime bitches give head

I'm the blunt 3 in the morning you take to the head

I'm that car that you snatched when you first got bread

I'm that spot that you got when you were running from the Feds

I'm the heart of the page in that book that you read

I'm the ground that absorbed all that shit that y'all bled

Styles, physically and mentally

going to for the goal cuz I paid the penalty

Y'all ain't a friend of me

y'all ain't seen the enemy

Thinking of bending me

but I'm on the Kennedy

When I fly back in, hope you're packing

coming to tear y'all niggaz in fractions


seen the future we battlin' all laws

Verse Three: Sheek Luchion

Y'all must really wanna die, fucking with Sheek Luchi

this here is the roof we dropping niggaz off Bonsai

Goodbye, see you in your afterlife when

you come back as a pussy and I fuck you again

Respect come not from Tecs, it comes from niggaz who write checks

to get y'all lil' niggaz outta big debts

With paper, I'm sure that you never see me sweat

Only in the linen when I'm spinning in my whip-up

pass niggaz and watch they face frown like a pitbull

The shit that we crush niggaz sniff into their groove

scared to move

Gleaming like you looking for change

But ain't no dollars down there it's that sack fucking with you

now bounce before we bust you where the good Lord split you

Hustle to work, you kidding me, you know the difference in the cash income

for years so many niggaz must've been dumb

Where we from, niggaz been hustlin' drums

making sneaker money, running for crumbs, pulling in sums

If time don't stop, why should we yo light your spliff

you need work? Come on I got consignment to give

This year I need 97 gats, 97 cars

swear to God this year, I'm gonna fuck 97 starts

And if I come short, it ain't no slack off my shoulder

I'm waiting for this last bitch to get a little older WHAT

L.O.X. nigga, DJ Clue, to the muthafuckin' chest

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