Jay Rock - 112 Bars lyrics

Yeah niggas!
Who the fuck you thought it was?
It's ya nigga Jay muthafuckin Rock, top dog!
Before I get started
Let me get a rest in peace to my nigga Pac
Gotta go in on this one yeah, let's go

Give me my money and stacks and
Lace my swishas with kush, nigga
Hard liquor fuck up my liver
Guaranteed I pick up
The west coast like the phone is ringing
Hello
Anybody on this phone this evening? Guess not
Jay Rock, out the bottom of Watts
Gangsta, ain't shit pop but the water in pots
We cookin the crack
Distributin' to the block gettin' it back
I use the same formula for rap
I'm warnin' ya
Leavin' more dead bodies for the coroner


Shootin any witness with a cornea
As far as rap
I'm best the rapper out of California
Warrior, in the 300 like a Spartan
Gladiator, blast a hater, put em in a coffin
For coughin', that thera-flu won't do
Gonna need more if you don't
Wanna see the lord
Tell me what ya livin' for like 2 times 2
I'm a sureshot like marksmen, you all dead
Cold red
Money clippers if a nigga fold bread
That will feed four people for
The next four years
I ain't just got ends, I end careers
Cosigned by the allmighty pac
When I drop science like? I'm not lyin'
Put a scar on your face like Simba's uncle
Dumb fuck, I was built to tussle
Gangbang, murder state
West side of the mississippi
Where you can die like a
Shirt from an old hippie peep the irony
The heater on me when it's nippy
Hit a nigga on Q like I'm from the fifties
Roll through the sixties just
To fuck withNnippsey
Hussle to the death like
Interpreters I'm hurtin' ya
I could close curtain ya
But I'll let you bleed
I'm a top dog, nigga, like?
Got the game on lock
But I'm stealin' the keys
Don't get it twisted, honey
I'm still with the bees
Like sean carter on the yacht
What you got, nothing, nigga
Give it up, circle round the block
(BUCK-BUCK a nigga) what the fuck
This is hip-hop to the third degree
Murder emcees, send 'em up
Throw 'em in a burboun truck
Throw some gasoline on 'em, light a match
Burn em' up
I don't think you heard enough, fuck it
Let me turn it up
Grab ya bitch, turn her out
Sell her for a couple buds
Put her on a stroll
Bet she'll bring back a armored truck
Tell her I'm a city nigga, gritty nigga
Grimy nigga even when you eyes closed
Guaranteed you'll find me
In the Watts with a backroad
The hood made my heart cold
Put me in a loophole, now the nigga do shows
Kick flows like I knew martial arts
Raving at Peter Parker once a
Nigga climb the charts
All my real niggas follow
I don't fuck with pussy niggas
Fuck with real bloods, real
Crips, who you foolin', nigga?
Jay Rock, jack the ripper
Rep for every ghetto
I'm a still be here even when
The smoke settle on a sunset
Rollin' down sunset, hand on the wheel
Middle finger to the cops
Give a fuck how they feel
I'm a ride like a freighttrain
On ya rap lames
Screaming Bounty Hunters got the
Projects on my back, mane
You ain't gotta aks mane, Jay Rock got it
Top Dawg, aka they got dollas
Big like Chris Wallace, fly like weed parlors
Sig on my lap, we'll pop your collar
From the land where the coolest
Cat will drop your mama
Mouthpiece like barack obama
But still street
Stilll creep through your set
I'm a thug I guess
Cold stares for the clothes I dress
I'm well aware of that niggas be hatin'
Soon as they jump like a car cable
Homie gon' be disabled, screaming for help
Tryin' to kill me? Better
Off killing yourself, because
It's suicide
The way I was raised, either do or die
You can die any given time, it's not promised
Hop out, spray llamas
Come back with the Big Mac
Hassle McDonalds on our house
What you 'bout? Big money?, for cheap talk
Bumping your gums, you'll get your teeth lost
Play me for dumb, we bust guns
Leave ya street-chalked
Do this for fun, we hit ya block
Let the piece bump like pitbulls
Get shookup when the flow cook up
Tell 'em I got the hookup
Like candyman on your steps
I command respect like a
Law permitted to y'all
Y'all never come brawl with
The west coast general criminal background
Tell mama her son rap now
No more hustling rocks up in that crackhouse
All I do is bring it to you, pay per view
Food for thought, brought wordplay
What you brought
I brought the big boys with me
My project people call me Bishop Lamont
Stand on top of the church steeple
Writin' raps 'til my hands collapse
Starin' at the world from a different
View like my crooked eye do
Hold my beach cruiser as I ride by you
With my Glasses on, shout out to Malone
Out-of-towners want to trip
Then I'm ready to rob 'em
See I got that K boy, who wanna pile 'em
And that K got a Dot, if I let a shot go
Hit you in your Ab, and there go your Soul
On my misson ready to roll
Let's do this to a living
But Jay said that's a felony
Cause niggas keep on telling
If a coward snitch on me
Then this what I'll do
Pull the rocket out and let it bang loose
Then give his mama the blues, like SBI
Got hot dollars now, so the FBI
All inside of my ride
That's the Cadillac Fleetwood
If the west blow, shit
You know that the east would
I'm coastal with it, look, me and Mistah Fab
Doing fabolous digit's
It's a family business
In the field with that, then you get stuck up
Give it to you every day
Seven years of bad luck
Who got the gin and the juice
Toss it up for my name
I don't know how many bars
But this not a game