DMX - Twisted Heat Lyrics
[swizz beatz:]We know yall out to drink til yall throw upWe know yall sittin on 20sWe know yall reppin your hoodBut how many yall kill!!![twista]Bounce that ass, load them cribs,Let me see the mobbin niggaz that, uhh, talk shitWhile these muthat*****az be scummy andll go for the money,Ready to ride when they holdin a lickThugs with the chevys, thugs with the trucks,The real gun runner never run when he bustHenny and he mobs in the front, smoke a dro blunt,Sippin with a fifty sack under the nutsHoes with ass and no gutLet me see you jiggle it from side to sideNiggaz if its static, then pass me the strap,Gonna ride til my rideAll the hoes thatll freaky niggaz, with the fedi,Lets get buck up in the clubAnd all my soldiers, fall out, gangstas, mob upAll the homeys on the block,Anny up on the fin and lets go get us a sackServe too, we got a custom lac, hustlin pack,Til a nigga bust, they bustin backGuys thatll roll them dice and win,Girls with fits that show the skinReal niggaz mind your best friend at the pen,Real hoes let your best friend know about menCause I be squeezin assAndll make a full glass disappear like a genieMove to the lox and beanie,While them hoes backin that thang up on my weenieIts like no nigga in the world could see meWhen I ruff ryde with drag-onRollin up big babies in a mercedes,If you want herb we got bombs[chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)]Gotta kick that shit for the fine *****es and all my nugzFor the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hoodWhat do a nigga say when he say drag-on and twista (wanna kill me)Gangsta (lets ride), hustla (feel me)[drag-on]By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,And this kid spit fire lightAnd the ***** I don *****ed like last night,I dont give a ***** bout a 2 and a half micCause the only mutha*****in magazine that I read,Is when I buy my gun from itHow many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,I suggest yall run from itAnd the click-click from the calico, I gotta go,Make it pimp with a lot of hoesIm the same mutha*****a thats countin that dough,Cookin that coke to a pot of goldCause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,I dont care I gotta cap me a copAs long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocksDrag open up boots by watchin co-ops in convo at condosKeep the heat up in jeeps, in case yall creep up on meI run up on yall in a cab with a meter on meAnd the only on leavin is meAnd the only one bleedin is you, tryin to breeze with meAll the roc is e-n-y-c-e, in the nyc with the white tAll I really do isR-u-double f, r-y-d-e, d-r-a-g, to the dash o-nCatch me, smokin potent, bet it leave yall, niggaz soakin,With your insides open[chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)][swizz beatz:]Errrrrrr!!!!Hold the ***** up!Slow down!Drag, twista, listen upThese mutha*****az dont know whats real out here(they damn sure dont)This is volume 2 (volume 2)Nigga, so, get ignorent![chorus: twista (drag-on)][twista]Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophicalSmokin on tropical, achievin all missions impossibleWhen I up the block at you, ima pop at youIf your momma cry theres nothin I could doShould notve *****ed with mr. illogicalWhen Im in to clubbin, clubbin, shake it dont you break itYou booty to shapey, cant take it, wanna see you *****I don drunk a boo mutha*****a, so you know Im lit upEverybody get up, spin witha a twista, its a stick up[drag-on (swizz beatz):]This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up,Lust pour me some liquor, flame-on and twista,Lets see if you murdered wholl miss yaI love the dirty south, thats why I gotta dirty mouthThatll burn you outTell your ***** I got a dick thatll turn her out,Especially when I tell her turn aroundI don hurt her nowShitll come back, and I think its time to get murdered nowIm tired of silly clowns, spittin out weak shit, sound like my shitYou gon make me pull a all nighterStandin infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighterNow hit, we wont miss ya, drag-on and twista(puttin it on em!)
