Free download
Who I be? I be, I-B-E!
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #12,097
Peak in subgenre #1,748
Author
Written by Ibe Wazir
Uploaded
July 19, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.0 MB • 128 kbps • 2:13
Lyrics
Ay, I know you done heard about this, if you didn't, you will tomorrow. Who wanna talk about some gangsters? (Who wanna talk about some ganstas?) Ok, and your boy Ibe was right in the middle of it, you know, dude, who wanna talk about some gangsters? 6 mother f*** ers against us, 6 mother f*** in African Americans. Who wanna talk about some gangsters? They-they f*** in leavin wit bruises, they're livin with bloody noses, dude, f*** in, you know. Who wanna talk about some gangsters? You think I ain't about sh** dude? I know from tonight that I am because I stood in the front like I was a King dude. And-and I'm not sayin nothin dude, but I-I'm just sayin dude, who wanna talk about some gangsters? They think that they're gangsters because it's 6 white boys against 20 black boys? Nah dude, nah. (And who came out with the bruises? We came out with some sh** , but every one of them f*** in n*** s got marks on their face, f*** 'em). They got marks on their face. (Every f*** in one of 'em) Hehehe. (Every 20 mother f*** ers) Hehehehehehehehehehe. (F*** you n*** s). F*** in negroes!
Chorus:
The Realist in the house (Bad News)
I see Dee in the house (Bad News)
Lil' Biggie's in the house (Bad News)
Da Whole Show's in the house (Bad News)
Jamahal Jackson's in the house (Bad News)
Big J's in the house (Bad News)
Crazy J's in the house (Bad News)
Seth (Bad News)
Bird (Bad News)
Verse 1:
Who wanna talk about some gangsters? Don't talk too much
Cause like last time, I'll walk outta this sh** untouched
You said you stood in the front like you was a king dude
You stood in front of Conoco not doin a thing dude
You're pitiful, I'll spit a full clip on this b***
It's ridicule just even listenin to the skit
Y'all n*** z laugh it up, but ain't nuttin funny
Cause right now I'm feelin hungry smellin nuttin but Money
And when I crack through the door you know I'm ready to feast
And I'ma leave just enough so my boys get a piece
Take a bite into crime, while I'm writin a rhyme
Put your life on the line, when you fightin my nine
I'll take ya back to the Stone Age era in Bed Rock
Where they don't carry guns, they just get they head rocked
I'll knock you the f*** out, turn your vision to red
You will think I'ma crack head because crack heads
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Yo Michael Garrett guess what? You only weigh about a buck
Here's a little advice, don't try to f*** wit luck
There's a 50-50 chance, bad luck, good luck
Who would get the upperhand, a man or a woodchuck?
These pussies mad cause they can't walk wit the crips
Keep talkin sh** , get smacked till ya talk wit a lisp
Right now it's summertime and I'm makin it hot
Better back down now because I'm takin your spot
And I'm not sayin nothin, but I'm just sayin
Michael Garrett I will kill you, and I ain't playin
I got n*** z in the country that keep bags of lime
That'll break your ass down to the size of a dime
I creep the streets wit peeps who keep heat
And seek the geeks whose teeth seeps through their cheeks
And speaks bleak, freak betta fix his speech
And be meek, cause in a week he'll be six feet deep
(Hehehehehehehehehe
F*** you n*** s
F*** in negroes)
