Lil Flip, Z-Ro - Art of War lyrics

You know my niggas riding
I hope you niggas hiding
You know my niggas riding
I hope you niggas hiding
You know my niggas riding
I hope you niggas hiding
Cause it's the art of war
When our crews colliding

You see the pain in my eyes
Bitch I ain't never scared lighting a flame
I'm smoking my Jane anywhere
A lot of niggas
Trying to go against Gangus Khan
Ever since March 27th
I ain't forgetting to bring my gun
I took one, and I ain't trying to take no mo'
So befo' you get at me, I'ma get you hoe
I keep a lot of do'
I'm living like the Godfather
And I just bought three karats
For my god daughter
Christian D'ore for my chicks
This rapping shit made me rich
I smell like Kurt when I pitch
Nigga you get it homie i be in Orange Mound
Drinking yellow drank nigga
I might be with Quetpuff
And green dank nigga
You know we getting chedda
Like them Get It Boyz
Any rapper step to me, he will get destroyed
Cause, I'm the Marvin Gaye of my time
And if you so hot
Why your video ain't retired bitch

Me and Z-Ro the Kings
You better do your math
And this shit I'm spitting bitch
I ain't use a pad
I might bruise you bad, just to move your ass
Come down to Texas
And I bet the crowd boo your ass
Atlantic got you gassed nigga
You ain't hotter than Twista
Jail don't make you a gangsta
And neither do a pistol
Hood beef is hood beef
We 'spose to keep it in the hood
This nigga ain't from Houston Texas
Why y'all make him look good
I can tell he ain't real
Cause when the cameras come on
He gotta put his grill in
And pat his make-up on
Huh no homos we got 4-4's
Fo' Hummers sitting on Mo-Mo's
In the lab, me and Tow Down stay blowing dro
We ride around in them drops
Sixteen switches it hop
Now stop, I know you looking at my watch whoo
Now it's time for me, to end this verse
Because I'm tired nigga
Since I'm the boss than you fired nigga

Y'all know my niggas riding
On the frontline none of my niggas hiding
Gliding on 22 inches when I'm riding
Custom made jewelry from Johnny
Got me blinding
Hold up my nigga you don't wanna run up
That's when the Mo City militia
Hold they guns up
Fuck around and stab a nigga
Like my name Young Buck
Yeah I know you cats think
To figga wanna fuck up
See me running round on my big ass rims
Black top blue jeans and
Black and brown Tim's
Cream as the seas big guns under them
Ridgemont hardheads y'all don't want
None of them
And not a boss nigga in my hood can't leave
Fuck around and make it when
A sucker can't breathe
Ridgevan is all which y'all fellas
Can't bleed that block
Will get you bitches D-E-A-D
These days on the topic is the barber shop
Like if they ain't talk about
Me they hard to stop
But, I'm a real nigga plus I
Like to squab a lot
Made niggas go to Herman and then talk a lot
Give a fuck if a nigga wanna squab or not
Could pay your job for an Antonio Tarver shot
Wanna pistol play with me better bar they lot
Just wanna pull up in them
Unmarked cars a lot
Finna punish everybody on your
Block right now bitch niggas try to make it
Out of sight right now
Bout to be acquainted with the
Bright light right now
Bro you think you got hands
We could fight right now
It's the King of the Ghetto
And them Clover G'z
Late night at the studio blowing trees
About to jump in the pick-up and
Let the guns sick 'em
When they find your ass we gon be overseas