Do It 2 Death (feat. Lil' Fame, Havoc & Kool G Rap) Lyrics & Tabs by Statik Selektah
Do It 2 Death (feat. Lil' Fame, Havoc & Kool G Rap)
guitar chords lyrics
[Chorus - Lil' Fame] - w/ ad libs
Do it!
We, we, we do it to death
We, we do it to death
(Showoff! Showoff!)
Come on
Do it!
We, we, we, we, we do it to death
(Say what?)
We do it to death
(Showoff! Showoff!)
Get down with the Mash Out (Mash Out), don't throw rocks in a glass house
Nigga act up if you want, I whip your ass out (what?)
(Keep your distance), what up? It's murder, murder
For niggaz don't learn though, the hood is in the burner
Nigga act up if you want, I whip your ass out (what?)
(Keep your distance), what up? It's murder, murder
For niggaz don't learn though, the hood is in the burner
It's filled with fiends, hoodrats and raw dog niggaz that kill
For real, Slumdog Millionaires, (what it is)
And I got one life to live
I'll start by holdin you back and have you shittin out your ribs
Ain't nothin holdin me back, in fact, this is for the kids
With stomachs touchin they ribs, tuggin, grippin the fifth
Covered, spittin the fifth until they empty the clip
'Cause twenty years, the root of evil, envy as shit
On the boulevards, the streets, avenues and PJ's
We hustle hard and rock clothes for like three days
Nigga fuck around and grow a beard like Freeway's
Without the kufi, (you're killin 'em Fame!), absolutely
[Chorus] - w/ ad libs
Yeah, I'm so a showoff, blow the dome off
Wipe the chrome off, yeah the four long
I cut a life short, yeah that's Muggsy Bogues
My money grow, get it by the drug load
Ain't nothin funny 'bout that, you niggaz' Marlon Wayans
Lookin gay, get a Mohawk, put a part in your brain
QB to Southside, please allow me
To outline things that you think you knew about me
Have a womanizer, yeah, I use her for the setup
I admit it, I'm a bastard, I could never put the TEC up
Much less, pass up the offer
You feel how I feel, then my nigga just Hoffa
On the grind, lookin for that steak and lobster
Surfin and turfin, the hammer go blocka (blocka)
Shouts to my partner
Free P, 'til you touch down, I got ya
[Chorus] - w/ ad libs
Ain't no need to act stupid boy, you niggaz know the name
I'm the 2009 Jesse James, ain't a thing
Get at lames, off the chain, off your brain, get 'em slain
I'm like America's great theft, put a bird in the Range
Spend my time pullin off Hennessy caps
50's slingin energy drinks, I'm swingin energy crack
Keep your dead down, four pound, any minute, he back
Play in Queens on some fly shit, the live spend
five hundred dollars Kings, Rockstar rhinestones on a fly bitch
Roll up, flat chicks, stuck to his dick like a fly switch (what up ma?)
Model mami ridin a 2005 six
The money team in Queens don't be window shoppin, we buy shit
And tell the waiters bring two baked potatoes with jives lick
Northern Bully, my hood rules
I'll whip your ass like my son playin basketball in his good church shoes
Hammerin down any one of those wood work dudes
Come on boy, everybody in my hood burst tools, come on
We, we, we do it to death
We, we do it to death
(Showoff! Showoff!)
Come on
