Redman, Keith Murray - Wrong 4 Dat lyrics
[Redman, Keith Murray - Wrong 4 Dat lyrics]
This is WKYA, We Kickin Yo' Ass radio
All you motherfuckers out there that wanna
Get down with the pound
Put your motherfuckin pounds up
And start bustin the motherfuckers
Am I too loud for this motherfucker?
Turn me down a little bit yeah, yeah, yeah
Yo, first of all I'm a grown-ass man
Pay my own bills
Stated own real, haters gon' feel
Direct Syndrome, mouth with cold tongue
You bounty hunters be on the
Chase for Joe Young
I won't slip, keep pink slips to my car
I'm raw like sushi bars on bougie broads
I retrieve the money, dawg labrador
Ray Charles can see it, and Stacy Lattisaw
You get mashed out, cause your bird is peckin
Don't be the next vinyl cut to Urban Legend
I can feel where you at, when I pound you up
You out of town coke rhymes
Oh you clowns is up
My crew stay in the truck
Can't fit in the Porsche
If you bitches ain't happy
Then get a divorce
I'mma do what I want, cause my time is now
Grab the whole rap game, and divide it down
If I wanna roll a Jeep with
A seat out the back bitch feet out the back
System beat out the track
Am I wrong for dat? (If that's what you like)
Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Hey, I guess not)
Yo yo, if I walk into the club with
My hand on my snub
Beatin down security cause I
Don't give a fuck
Am I wrong for dat? (Mmm mmm)
Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Say WHAAAAT?)
Yo Keith, yo yo Keith
Sound of jail door opening
I copped the whole box
Went half with Reginald
Hollow tips infrareds and clips came free
And you ain't gotta believe me
Fuck bein nervous
Far as I'm concerned they're
At your funeral service
What do we have here? Snitch in despair
Shoot off his ear
Have his whole body shakin in fear
Stormtrooper fires throwin lashin out flames
A few ashes, when they analyze your remains
I live in the streets, reside with the toolie
I kill you like it's part
Of my religious duty
Street sweeper thug keeper sweepin
Thugs under the rug
Even females who think they thugs
Trigger the release of adrenaline
When I'm gangsta-trippin like
The Bloods'n'Crips'n'them
Unleash the matter of energy, killin 'em
Why'd you do it? Because
I wasn't feelin them!
If I ride through the hood
Smokin a ounce of haze (uh huh)
With a shabby haircut, pants I wore for days
Am I wrong for dat? (I don't think so)
C'mon bitch, am I wrong for dat?
(Say WHAAAAT?) yo, if I want a fat chick
That keep her toes done (uh huh)
When they playin my song ass
Spill out the thong
Am I wrong for dat? (Got that big ass)
Am I wrong for dat? (Tchk, nooo)
I gotta
Bang the boogie to that bang bang pussy
To that bang to the pussy the beat, beat
And if yo'
Bitch ain't sippin that Cristal shit
Then she might be leavin with D, D
I got a hairy-ass chest, like Austin Powers
That bitch that "Stan" drowned
I fucked around with her
Act like a man, stand on your own two
Doc takin it all, fuck who it belong to
All you motherfuckers out there that wanna
Get down with the pound
Put your motherfuckin pounds up
And start bustin the motherfuckers
Am I too loud for this motherfucker?
Turn me down a little bit yeah, yeah, yeah
Yo, first of all I'm a grown-ass man
Pay my own bills
Stated own real, haters gon' feel
Direct Syndrome, mouth with cold tongue
You bounty hunters be on the
Chase for Joe Young
I won't slip, keep pink slips to my car
I'm raw like sushi bars on bougie broads
I retrieve the money, dawg labrador
Ray Charles can see it, and Stacy Lattisaw
You get mashed out, cause your bird is peckin
Don't be the next vinyl cut to Urban Legend
I can feel where you at, when I pound you up
You out of town coke rhymes
Oh you clowns is up
My crew stay in the truck
Can't fit in the Porsche
If you bitches ain't happy
Then get a divorce
I'mma do what I want, cause my time is now
Grab the whole rap game, and divide it down
If I wanna roll a Jeep with
A seat out the back bitch feet out the back
System beat out the track
Am I wrong for dat? (If that's what you like)
Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Hey, I guess not)
Yo yo, if I walk into the club with
My hand on my snub
Beatin down security cause I
Don't give a fuck
Am I wrong for dat? (Mmm mmm)
Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Say WHAAAAT?)
Yo Keith, yo yo Keith
Sound of jail door opening
I copped the whole box
Went half with Reginald
Hollow tips infrareds and clips came free
And you ain't gotta believe me
Fuck bein nervous
Far as I'm concerned they're
At your funeral service
What do we have here? Snitch in despair
Shoot off his ear
Have his whole body shakin in fear
Stormtrooper fires throwin lashin out flames
A few ashes, when they analyze your remains
I live in the streets, reside with the toolie
I kill you like it's part
Of my religious duty
Street sweeper thug keeper sweepin
Thugs under the rug
Even females who think they thugs
Trigger the release of adrenaline
When I'm gangsta-trippin like
The Bloods'n'Crips'n'them
Unleash the matter of energy, killin 'em
Why'd you do it? Because
I wasn't feelin them!
If I ride through the hood
Smokin a ounce of haze (uh huh)
With a shabby haircut, pants I wore for days
Am I wrong for dat? (I don't think so)
C'mon bitch, am I wrong for dat?
(Say WHAAAAT?) yo, if I want a fat chick
That keep her toes done (uh huh)
When they playin my song ass
Spill out the thong
Am I wrong for dat? (Got that big ass)
Am I wrong for dat? (Tchk, nooo)
I gotta
Bang the boogie to that bang bang pussy
To that bang to the pussy the beat, beat
And if yo'
Bitch ain't sippin that Cristal shit
Then she might be leavin with D, D
I got a hairy-ass chest, like Austin Powers
That bitch that "Stan" drowned
I fucked around with her
Act like a man, stand on your own two
Doc takin it all, fuck who it belong to