Boosie Badazz, Webbie - U Ain't Bout What You Be Talkin Bout lyrics

Now, you ain't bout that murder murder shit
You ain't down to lose your cool
And go and hurt a bitch
We got them hookups on them rentals
Now we murking shit tinted up, spending
Finna let that thirty spit
Bitch do you want your fucking
Family in black clothes?
The bitches in black dresses
The niggas in black bows
You ain't know? I'm cutthroat, conniver
I'm a bottom boy survivor
Sip syrup, and smoke fire
And I'm wilder than the average thug
I'm hardheaded, my mama told me that
And you gots to be real
All this drama showed me that
Lose your mind if you want to
I got a clique of real
Niggas who gon' stomp you
And want you to be hollering


Bout that iron play
And we gon' hit your street
Tonight, not the next day, that tech spray
Nigga don't worry bout that
They gon' get what they deserve bout that
We gon' cut down they whole curb bout that
(What?)

You ain't bout what you be talking bout
You ain't ready for your mama
To be walking out (Uh Uh)
That big ass church with
All your people, crying, hollering bout
Why you had to take my son
That's what them choppers bout
(Is you bout that boy?)

You ain't really bout that shit you
Be talking, so stop that talking
You heard me?
Stop all that talking', and walk it
If you gon' serve me, then serve me
And I'm lil Trill Entertainment
So know one thing, i ain't worried
Cuz my family do damage
Business ain't handled, it's murder
Niggas sweeter than Skittles
So they spitting in riddles
See that lil' shit that you spittin
Gon' have you sleep in hospitals
Cause if you beef with my niggas
Then we gon' really squad up
From choppers to a six, bitch
You can't avoid us
Rapping bout smoking that killer
Don't even smoke killer even if you did
I wouldn't even smoke with you
Ya bitch, ya fraud, ya fake
Ya motherfucking fluke
Pussy all wet, your fucking booty all loose
You and them other two niggas, duck, duck
Goose under the throwback jersey
The vest bullet proof gangsta shit jump off
Boy you know you finna run out
Close your fucking mouth
Before I rip your damn tongue out

You ain't bout what you be talking bout
You ain't ready for your mama
To be walking out (Uh Uh)
That big ass church with
All your people, crying, hollering bout
Why you had to take my son
That's what them choppers bout
(Is you bout that boy?)

You ain't bout laying under a nigga house
Like a mouse
And you light his ass up when he come out
When it's a drought, we get sick with it
You heard about Lil' Trell?
Gunned down when he was 12
Ever since then it been hell
Webbie, and they don't live like we live
They don't deal like we deal
They ain't real like we real
Look, I'm from that track light
That bottom of that SSB
Whatever you call it, that shit lives in me
Them niggas kill for free
Like Lil' Trell on the love
Cause these niggas ain't my equal
And they hating on this lil' thug
A lot of niggas scared of y'all, but not me
This for them niggas in the
Rap game, who knock me, but can't stop me
And my posse is full of thugs
Like Head Busta', Baby Junior
And my nigga Chubbs
We dumping slugs on the enemy
I thought you was my closest friend
But now on you just a frenemy
And this fucking penitentiary make
Niggas think they real
And when they get out
They got a nerve to pop a pill
(But look here)

You ain't bout what you be talking bout
You ain't ready for your mama
To be walking out (Uh Uh)
That big ass church with
All your people, crying, hollering bout
Why you had to take my son
That's what them choppers bout
(Is you bout that boy?)