Free download
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #717
Peak in subgenre #400
Author
JOKERJOE2
Rights
YEAH, DONT TOUCH IT!
Uploaded
December 24, 2008
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 3:22
Lyrics
Yo I been dropped in the dark side, had some anticipatin//
Joe’s flow went solo, but I got sicka sittin waitin//
I kept the bitches hatin while I weighed the situation//
Now im sayin, im forsaken, while I rape the bitch you datin//
Wait!
They say im sick, insane, twisted, I got shyt fa brains//
Writtens lame, still I aim the thangs, spit & splitcha frame//
bang
But listen lames, want hits? Ill spit fa days//
Tell ya bitch to give me brain, spit game, while im getting laid//
Ayyyy
I spit slick sick shyt, bitches drip like newborn puke//wwwwoooow
You not the hottest on the block, not even luke warm duke//whoooo
You aim the heat, weak, kid you better bang them things//
Cuz grazin aint gon faze me, when I brang the gang wit me//
whooooo
Face it, see, we straight laced, to get crazy g//
Even the ladies play wit razors, see how smooth ya face’l be//
Smoke’l roll from ya nose, & we know ya not Jamaican doc//
The red dot pops, head shot, gotta keep the heataz blazin hot//
Some say im the evilest dude, so I came to the evilest crew//
We said Bring it, you aint see it, so we brang the evil to you//
Act ghost, we see you dudes, wack folks, we see ya too//
Tryna play games wit forsaken, we like who you speakin to?//
Hahahha
We’ll leave ya bleedin through that fitted cap that ya twistin back//
Spit a track, yall bitches wack, listen, cut the chitter chat//
daamn//
Bitch im killin cats, simply wit my written crap//
Cuz spittin atchu bastards would kill you where you sittin at//
Never concealin weapons, not known for keeping tha gun tucked//
yo dumb fucks, fuckin wit forsaken means that yall done fucked up//
Yuuup..
So when we say run, we aint talkin treadmills//
& we dont mean tattoo guns, we talkin the ones that leave ya head spilled//
Wwwwhhhoooaa!
Go for the head kill, send chills down anybodies back//
Stay euthanizing pussies, cuz we known to body cats//
Still we got bitches poppin bad, Till we cock the shotty back//
Blow his front out his ass, damn, “where everybody at?”//
