The Beatnuts, Gab Gotcha - 2-3 Break lyrics
[The Beatnuts, Gab Gotcha - 2-3 Break lyrics]
You know what?
People call me the drunk
Or the thick funk distributor
Looter, bag your whole store like my shooter
Click back
Put a hollow point cap in your temple
We get caught, it's strictly mental
A stone crook, I don't go by the book
You can't fool me with your gangster look
I truncate a Judas on my turf for wet pay
When I roll a blunt
They better rollerblade out
And don't try talking bold
'Cause I'll smack you with a
Bat like "Walking Tall"
What? You punk, who's gonna defend you?
When I bum rush your ass and
Stick an icepick in you?
Quick, your bitch caught a
Splinter from my dick
'Cause she gave me a woodie
In the parking lot behind
The bed slammer can stick a ho
With my king-size dick
And Don King sized hand again
Two, three, break!
I got so much of this style
Coming from my lips while
Washed-up ducks get dumped in
Motherfucking shit piles
Bang, I got my own thang, gang
Ain't it proper?
Drop a hollow-point shelly on a copper
Let 'em fucking know who's the Kool
Where I'm coming from
Slept for a while on my
Style now I'm stunning 'em bagging 'em
Plus I hit they hoes in the mean
'Cause all I ever want is fame, bitches
And the green
Seen crazy niggas get lost in the shuffle
With dreams turned to rubble then
Bust like a bubble
Ta dow, now, that's how it's falling
Whether I'm hitting skins or
I'm motherfucking balling
Hanging with my crew on the Peekskill plain
I throw my shit when laying a
Bitch so get off my dick
Trick, you know my style, no
It ain't no use 'Cause I can keep your ho
Wet like a fucking douche
Two, three, break!
Taking the mic, no haps, I be the owner
My rhymes will make niggas
Collapse into a coma
Product of a concrete hell, I'm on a mission
Deadly with intent to shell the oppositioт
Fucking with this flow, come on, yo
That's treason
Niggas fuck around and get shot for no reason
Junkyard nigga, represent every time
Corona's in the house and, yo, Gab
My rhymes quake up to a 94, ready for war
Come forth
I'll floss my fronts with your spinal cord
Thought he got the drop, I possessed inside
Better off trying to survive
Under a cyanide landslide
But that ain't nothing like a
Penny in the vault
'Cause I assault niggas who couldn't
Launch shit with catapults
So if you ever hear the name Gab One
Don't even sweat it
The worst hasn't even begun
Word up, it's like that, Beatnuts
Triflicts in the house, yeah
Nineteen, gettin' money
You know what I'm sayin'? Word
People call me the drunk
Or the thick funk distributor
Looter, bag your whole store like my shooter
Click back
Put a hollow point cap in your temple
We get caught, it's strictly mental
A stone crook, I don't go by the book
You can't fool me with your gangster look
I truncate a Judas on my turf for wet pay
When I roll a blunt
They better rollerblade out
And don't try talking bold
'Cause I'll smack you with a
Bat like "Walking Tall"
What? You punk, who's gonna defend you?
When I bum rush your ass and
Stick an icepick in you?
Quick, your bitch caught a
Splinter from my dick
'Cause she gave me a woodie
In the parking lot behind
The bed slammer can stick a ho
With my king-size dick
And Don King sized hand again
Two, three, break!
I got so much of this style
Coming from my lips while
Washed-up ducks get dumped in
Motherfucking shit piles
Bang, I got my own thang, gang
Ain't it proper?
Drop a hollow-point shelly on a copper
Let 'em fucking know who's the Kool
Where I'm coming from
Slept for a while on my
Style now I'm stunning 'em bagging 'em
Plus I hit they hoes in the mean
'Cause all I ever want is fame, bitches
And the green
Seen crazy niggas get lost in the shuffle
With dreams turned to rubble then
Bust like a bubble
Ta dow, now, that's how it's falling
Whether I'm hitting skins or
I'm motherfucking balling
Hanging with my crew on the Peekskill plain
I throw my shit when laying a
Bitch so get off my dick
Trick, you know my style, no
It ain't no use 'Cause I can keep your ho
Wet like a fucking douche
Two, three, break!
Taking the mic, no haps, I be the owner
My rhymes will make niggas
Collapse into a coma
Product of a concrete hell, I'm on a mission
Deadly with intent to shell the oppositioт
Fucking with this flow, come on, yo
That's treason
Niggas fuck around and get shot for no reason
Junkyard nigga, represent every time
Corona's in the house and, yo, Gab
My rhymes quake up to a 94, ready for war
Come forth
I'll floss my fronts with your spinal cord
Thought he got the drop, I possessed inside
Better off trying to survive
Under a cyanide landslide
But that ain't nothing like a
Penny in the vault
'Cause I assault niggas who couldn't
Launch shit with catapults
So if you ever hear the name Gab One
Don't even sweat it
The worst hasn't even begun
Word up, it's like that, Beatnuts
Triflicts in the house, yeah
Nineteen, gettin' money
You know what I'm sayin'? Word