Nas, 50 Cent, Bravehearts - Who U Rep With lyrics
Nas [Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones] Brooklyn, NYC, U.S. 🇺🇸
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[Nas, 50 Cent, Bravehearts - Who U Rep With lyrics]
Hats off, to da rich ones who flash and floss
Pour some liquors out to my
Dogs trapped up north
Reminisce on the deceased who no longer exist
Only wishin' we could bring them
Back with songs like dis
Old flicks on us chillin' wit
Da old time clique
Holdin' nines, thoughts of death
Not our lives we risk
How it use to be, early morn
Pumpin' in shifts
Jakes wit pale faces in the
Night is the scariest they handcuff me
They knew my government and alias
Various calls were made up for awarin' us
The D's in the marked vans and cabs
In our land
Hoodrats get stapped by niggas who forty
Turnin' out young lady's and
Make them make thotties
Got them coked out, the hood is bugged out
Thug babies, famous in they strollers
Before they walk they knew the hood talk
It's in the air of New York
So everybody'll pick em up, kissin em up
Treatin' them like they own
In dis hood we call home
Fist fight till we grown and
These guns come out circle of life
It's kinda deep how we end out
Yo them niggas that wanted beef before
Don't want no beef no mo
Ya'll niggas better sober up before
Ya'll speak to me, don't come at me high
Last rapper that raised his voice to me
Got jabbed in da eye
Now if I say I'm gone get you, I'mma get ya
On da strength of da inf
From long range I can hit ya
You find out them niggas who wit
Ya ain't even wit ya
After da gem stars split ya
You need an MD to stitch ya
Peep how I use words to paint pictures
Peep how I got niggas with bodies askin' me
For ten cents to got hit ya
Look my name up in the law book
Curtis Jackson known for creatin' action
By rapidly clappin' nigga I stay strapped
So much I nickname gats
Got a tech I call Tina, a nine I name Nina
Two niggas went to see Allah
Afta they seen her this QB shit
Bout to take me to da next level
Next crib, next Benz, next bitch, next bezel
It's that real
Yo, aiyyo, who da fuck wanna war
I got a four four, pierce ya'll niggas jaw
You see me thugged out, iced out
Guinness Stout
Hopin' out the Range wit da gun out
Smack your man down, you ran off
I was gonna hit him with two
I left some for you
I put four, QB rugged and raw
I got somethin' for these rap cats
Fish held back gats scope wit a beam on it
Loc put your cream on it
Shine don't scheme on it
I make your dream about it
Forever, whatever whatever get gully
Shots thru your leather and clothe
With your skelly off break ya'll clowns off
Yo hollow tips will flood your jacket
I don't give a fuck who you be
Millennium Thug
Now who da fuck want it with me
I mastered the art of slap
Boxin' niggas in da dark
QB's big man, Horse of the Bravehearts
I'm da Sasquash of rap, collector of gats
Testin' macks at your bulletproof
Vests and hats
How bout that, guns bust off, I bust back
When trucks backfire, I bust back
How bout that
Stomp a muhfuckin' rib out ur back
Ya'll niggas ain't gangsta rap
Ya'll click like Josey and the Pussycats
When we come around da front, stop
Uh huh
Ya'll can't fuck around ya'll get dropped
When guns pop, who's tellin'
Twin barrel nines wavin' and yellin'
QB NIGGA WHAT
Two-time felon, straight to da melon
Straight to da dome
Send a nigga back, get da shells
Go straight home
Never slip, my Ill Will to survive is so deep
Can't sleep, cousin to death, makes me weak
Pullin' triggers at my shadow
Bravehearts pop up
Wiz, Jungle and Horse shot your block up
Pour some liquors out to my
Dogs trapped up north
Reminisce on the deceased who no longer exist
Only wishin' we could bring them
Back with songs like dis
Old flicks on us chillin' wit
Da old time clique
Holdin' nines, thoughts of death
Not our lives we risk
How it use to be, early morn
Pumpin' in shifts
Jakes wit pale faces in the
Night is the scariest they handcuff me
They knew my government and alias
Various calls were made up for awarin' us
The D's in the marked vans and cabs
In our land
Hoodrats get stapped by niggas who forty
Turnin' out young lady's and
Make them make thotties
Got them coked out, the hood is bugged out
Thug babies, famous in they strollers
Before they walk they knew the hood talk
It's in the air of New York
So everybody'll pick em up, kissin em up
Treatin' them like they own
In dis hood we call home
Fist fight till we grown and
These guns come out circle of life
It's kinda deep how we end out
Yo them niggas that wanted beef before
Don't want no beef no mo
Ya'll niggas better sober up before
Ya'll speak to me, don't come at me high
Last rapper that raised his voice to me
Got jabbed in da eye
Now if I say I'm gone get you, I'mma get ya
On da strength of da inf
From long range I can hit ya
You find out them niggas who wit
Ya ain't even wit ya
After da gem stars split ya
You need an MD to stitch ya
Peep how I use words to paint pictures
Peep how I got niggas with bodies askin' me
For ten cents to got hit ya
Look my name up in the law book
Curtis Jackson known for creatin' action
By rapidly clappin' nigga I stay strapped
So much I nickname gats
Got a tech I call Tina, a nine I name Nina
Two niggas went to see Allah
Afta they seen her this QB shit
Bout to take me to da next level
Next crib, next Benz, next bitch, next bezel
It's that real
Yo, aiyyo, who da fuck wanna war
I got a four four, pierce ya'll niggas jaw
You see me thugged out, iced out
Guinness Stout
Hopin' out the Range wit da gun out
Smack your man down, you ran off
I was gonna hit him with two
I left some for you
I put four, QB rugged and raw
I got somethin' for these rap cats
Fish held back gats scope wit a beam on it
Loc put your cream on it
Shine don't scheme on it
I make your dream about it
Forever, whatever whatever get gully
Shots thru your leather and clothe
With your skelly off break ya'll clowns off
Yo hollow tips will flood your jacket
I don't give a fuck who you be
Millennium Thug
Now who da fuck want it with me
I mastered the art of slap
Boxin' niggas in da dark
QB's big man, Horse of the Bravehearts
I'm da Sasquash of rap, collector of gats
Testin' macks at your bulletproof
Vests and hats
How bout that, guns bust off, I bust back
When trucks backfire, I bust back
How bout that
Stomp a muhfuckin' rib out ur back
Ya'll niggas ain't gangsta rap
Ya'll click like Josey and the Pussycats
When we come around da front, stop
Uh huh
Ya'll can't fuck around ya'll get dropped
When guns pop, who's tellin'
Twin barrel nines wavin' and yellin'
QB NIGGA WHAT
Two-time felon, straight to da melon
Straight to da dome
Send a nigga back, get da shells
Go straight home
Never slip, my Ill Will to survive is so deep
Can't sleep, cousin to death, makes me weak
Pullin' triggers at my shadow
Bravehearts pop up
Wiz, Jungle and Horse shot your block up