Partita for Solo Violin No. 3 in E Major, BWV 1006: III. Gavotte en rondeau

歌詞

Artist: Scarface f/ Bun be (U.G.K.), Z-Ro [Talking] Nigga don't act like you don't know who I'm talkin' bout (Fifty-Cent piece drops on table) [Coinciding With 50 Cent's Intro on 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin'] [Scarface] It's your worst day, run and tell somebody It's your worst day. It's your worst day, run and tell somebody It's your worst day. What it is?, nigga! You don't wanna get involved with this here, nigga! Is you a bitch nigga?, you a bitch nigga! Look at yourself and then analyze me! This motherfucking G I can see the flaws in you, you got girl drawers in you Girl flaws in you, a broad nigga! I peeped your whole hand when you came in I'm a man and I hang men Play the game to win All men should play on ten Scarface 'finna do it again Mash you nigga, smash through niggas Don't make me upstrap and blast you niggas Once again, it's only, its a must that I do it Lock you in my scope and blast your ass through it I'ma ruin The image and the style that you used to 'cause you don't keep it real like you used to A O.G., esa, fool to the hole fa'sho So niggas slow your motherfucking roll 'Fore I come through with the same M-11 The Feds took from me, and shoot you in yo motherfucking stomach [Chorus: Scarface] You a Snitch Nigga, when you rat on yo friends Bitch Nigga, when you steal cash from your kin You'z a Snitch Nigga, running when the drama go down You was bumpin at first what happened to the manly sound You a Snitch Nigga, specializin' at bumpin' ya gums Bitch Nigga, countin' all your bricks but all I see is crumbs Snitch Nigga, ain't you tired of running your mouth Can't even go home, cause a jacker might run in your house [Verse: Z-Ro] Now snitch fellas get up under my skin That's why I don't mess with friends Unless it's my Mac-10 I'm the king of the ghetto, Z-Ro the crooked in the flesh Looking for head shots, 'cause snitch fellas get the bullet-proof vests What you scared for? What happened to all the tough ass talk The way you was bumpin', I thought you had a taste for asphalt Look at momma's baby out here starvin' for an ass- Whippin', beefin', with a magician then drippin' now his ass missin I'll be damned if I pull a rabbit out a hat Well pull my 40 out of holster, and put a snitch fella on his back WHOA!, look how I handled this .44 My conscience be screaming Z-Ro Murder Mo!, Murder Mo! And these snitch fellas on "How I'm Living" try snitchin' on "BET" But got a restraining order against "Murder I-N-see" This how we ride, and ain't never gon' make a switch dude Z-Ro the Crooked, I'll be damned if I be a snitch fool [Chorus] [Verse 3: Bun B] It's Bun be I go back-a like "Atlanta Black Crackers" I back-slap a, back-packer, from here to Cakalacka{Carolina's} Wack rapper, short stopper or dope kicker-inner Bitch I ain't ya chicken hitter, bring the heater get you wetter(get you Wetter) With the 50 caliber magnum handgun Step a bear off in his tracks, you better hope I don't land one If I cock that bitch back..aim it at your chest It'll be weeks before they even find the pieces to your vest We releasers of ya stress..ease ya pain Put this pistol in your mouth, you'll never need them trees again The one ya momma warned ya about Bun-why he's insane Kill a kid over a quarter, (???) (???), boy you fuckin with the triller Z-Ro the young guerilla And Face the born killa (Bitch Nigga) Feel around in the dark for dough (Bitch Nigga) You here the sound, see the spark, and you know [Chorus]