Buckshot - Ladies N Gentlemen Lyrics
[intro]Party people in the place to beParty people in the place to beParty people in the place to beLadies n gentlemen, hes bdbA.k.a. you host for the eveningBy your people, he believin in fake mcs[buckshot]A lot of yall, think you know it allWant me to fall, but yall the same niggas at the party on the wallAskin shorty to dance, do she wanna groove, no chanceShe *****in wit buck, Im on the move, you understandStupid, wise up and get intelligentSee that hardcore speakin is irrelevantTeachin, when Im on the streets andWhen Im at a show I see my niggas is defeatinThe purpose, no longer am I nervousI told you, you shittin on me, Im comin back to blow youWhen I do this, dont act like its a shock to youIf I shock you when you bow down, say trueNow you can say you knew you was *****in wit the generalBut generally speakin, I didnt even know youBut I knew your kind, I dealt wit the same mindSaw the same plan, ended at the same time[chorus]Party people in the place to beParty people in the place to beParty people in the place to beLadies n gentlemen, hes bdbA.k.a. you host for the eveningBy your people, he believin in fake mcsBuck got plenty extra greevin, breathinYou know that I shall proceed[buckshot]I cant wait to get rid of yall captain crunch niggas on the micOne hit wonders, scared of the under, imma bring the lightTo make ya niggas come out of the closetYou might have to see me in the party, watch itI set the flame, see usually the aim isTo burn down the cane field, must remain realKeep the stainless steelBulletproofs the proof that the streets is realTwo shots to the belly, now the body feel illI will take ya niggas right above the hillAnd everybody got the skill, one spliffTwo, three, four spliffs, and make ya ball outEverybody call out, its the black, that make you lay back in the cutAnd ask what the ***** is that? nigga chill, relax[chorus][buckshot]I bomb first, leavin no time for you to rehearseWhen you hear the gunshots, nigga disperseShit gets worse if you persist, and tryin to diss, son, imagine thisThe vocalist, every time I told you thisYou told me that you knew in that I owned you thisWhat owned you this? my niggas be retaliateHad to make an example of niggas and demonstrateHow we dont ***** around wit yallWe might bring the pound for yall, bust a round at yaPolice put the shell up in the jar, for the evidenceKid, ever since I was fifteen, I was liftinBig clips and magazines, readin them and heatin themPut them in the bottom for the enemy to plead son shot himGot him cuz he want to be the talker and the big spenderUntil he got hit, bump the fenderNow hes misdemeanor minded, always caught up in some petty shitTil he got wit bd, now he ready, kid[chorus]
