D12 - 6 Reasons lyrics

They wish that they could bear me, black
D12 standing back
No planning that, Def methods
We got a hand in that whoever run this shit
You get a jammed knee cap
Make the healthy kids in your fam handicapped
You a fan of rap? My
Clan attack your school, home
Your bitch house
Pull my nine milli: you gon'
Die with your fist out
I'm here in this it's over
With venomous as cobra spit
Drunken dialect we're aggressive sober, bitch
My bionic fires demolish your larynx
Demonic as tainted chronic impossible to
Hold down like vomit
Mics, I palm it your state, I'll bomb it
Like terrorists that's Islamic i enter
Your atmosphere like a comet
The new god of rap: call me 'Nigga Thor'


Snap your back when I slap
Your ass in a figure-four
From miles around they can feel it's lethal
I make hardcore groups like Wu Tang
Look like the Village People
No sequel the general with the sinner style
Abort your mind-state and kill
Your inner child

It's been a while since you
Bitch-niggas heard of me
Cause the last six months I been doing R&B
But now I'm on some sick
Shit niggas better duck quick
You don't know who you're fucking with
I'll leave you niggas breathless
Seeing me and Bugz rolling in the blue hummer
You a bitch: scared to
Shoot like Lindsay Hunter
Don't need to be a father
Cause I'm just to illmatic
I'll probably poison my kids like
Flowers in the alley
Fuck your anorexic, neglects it, fuck a Lexus
I'm doing drive-bys on fusion BMXs

I know a girl who said she's free
Yo and her sign is a Leo
Bugzy fucked her in a Regal then
She took me to my PO
Fuck rolling ceelo I'm down to a C note
Lost a G rolling dice in that punk-ass casino
But fuck it, cause when times get bad
See me in drag
Whipping macs on unsuspecting fags
I gotta shoot bitch, you got the boot
And hurry up with it: I'm
Trying to catch this prostitute

I'm the nigga that spotted ya
Spit something hot at ya
Rip your Nautica saw you backstage
And shot at ya
And kill subliminally you can go on
And spin your group name 25 times in one song
I'll still write about you Hip-Hop
Is better off without you
Blowing niggas outta they bathrobes
And funky house shoes
For the hell of it, I fuck Missy Elliott
Don't give a fuck if her belly gets
In my way: I'm still nailing it
Got this verbal tech nine spitting
At you for telling shit
Get this dead body off the mic:
I'm tired of smelling it

Fuck it: let's have a scrap-out fuck around
With us and see what happen
We all got them guns blapping
Got y'all niggas back tracking
Ya, we dump bodies in seashores
Busting DJs over they backs with keyboards
Turn up my levels your crew
Is fruitier than pebbles
Changing you razorback emcees
To running rebels
Bust up kon Artis: quick to
Smack your slut up
Keep a pack of rubbers just in
Case I gotta nut up
Brigade-style hold 'em out down that's
How it's meant to be
You kick the same shit: your whole
Tape sound like a symphony
Don't say shit to me it's
DP conning your daughter
Talking bitches outta they panties
Dollars and last quarters
Like that horseman
I'll leave you wack clowns headless
Rastafarians come to my show
And leave dreadless whoever said this slash
Rapper-and-producer wouldn't
Make your head twist?
Guard your grill and your necklace
I got six reasons why we keep shit coming
Dirty Dozen left niggas running for cover
Hiding behind they lovers skirting off
Peeling rubber
As we shout "don't fuck with Dirty Dozen"

Yeah yeah bitch (what what)
We'll bring it to your crew
We'll bring it to your crew any of y'all
Die bitch don't fuck with Dirty Dozen
Dirty Dozen bugz
Proof bizarre
Don't fuck with Dirty Dozen da Brigade bitch
DJ Head don't fuck with Dirty Dozen
The saga starts right now
If you ain't down with us from this day on
Then fuck you