- Song Name: Come On
- Artist Name: DJ Clue
- Album: The Professional
- Songwriters: D Yates, Ernesto Shaw, J Bush, K Blake, Kenneth Ifill, L Johnson, S Price, T Williams
- Release Date: 1998.12.08
- Label: Def Soul
LYRICS FOR "Come On"
Come on
Come on
Everybody say Rock
So watch ya hootchie
Or heat is leave the scene and blaze to get ya fleece stuck
See me on the streets 'bra
Two piece your man and let Big Noc put him in a sleeper
Then see ya
Spliff in my hand
Surrounded my thugs
Plus the other nine cats
Yeah
Plus barbecues
Buckshot
Niggas stay high while I rock wit this
Mobb on y'all niggas like the Infamous
Too close wit the dillinger
I'm wiggin' out while I'm diggin' out backs
Run from the gun claps
Perhaps
Buckshot got stopped in they tracks wit macs
Now this is what I act like when I smoke on black
Stay high wit the lazy eye
From the street Bible or the street Quran
Fake thugs ride the dick when my s*** comes on
I'm a nappy little nigga
You can eat a dick while I eat a thong
But still the bomb
It's the wave king
Don't wanna end up miss-on
My grimy Brooklyn niggas stay flippin ya chick
While my crew from New Jerus stay vickin' ya whips
Tek is the s***
Deep impact steez been like a chromed out six
Wit the AMG kit
Y'all stockin' cap copycats
I keep the livin' quarter held down wit two nines
One in the bed
So while I'm takin' a s***
The amount we flip depends on what we get
It's like a wall street trick
My mans wear stones
On they ears and wrists alone for every deaf one's bone
Look
Come on
Come on
Come on
Come on
Yo the set I claim is the set that bang
To the muthafuckin' end
Lidu Rock
First the bloods and the crips
Like my nigga Craig and 'em say
Rockin' shines in the 'Ville
Or watch yo' step baby
I put a slug up in yo' mouth so that ass won't talk
For real son
'Cuz we hold it down for Doc and I keep my heat cocked
Lidu Rock
So if you rep for yours go 'head take a stab at me
You a many style copycat
Fake nigga from the projects who ain't got a gat
Ruck reign supreme
When the gun click
Maybe these
Force
Off lost in the sauce and of course I'm glad them
Monkey niggas don't f*** wit the Ruck
The last one
Quincy toes tagged em after somebody stabbed 'em
Cornball niggas wit drugs thinkin they weight great
Still bummin' money for stoges and a Drakes cake
Get it straight
Boot Campion champions on point like paper mates
Demonstrate
Smackin' ya upside the back of ya head wit a spatula
Snatchin' ya
Next week
Don't speak if you ain't at norm
Tally on
See me in Brooklyn where crooks be armed
Territorial disputes leave you in memorial suites
Callin' your troops
We the type you love to hate 'cuz we stay in your face
Sayin' our grace before we put our hands in our plates
Carnivorous lyricist
My mind spray like a murderer's nine spray
The crime way
DJ Clue
Part One
Word up
My nigga B
For all parties Big Skane 800-570-3657
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© MR MANATTI MUSIC