Dj Clue - Cops Robbers Lyrics
(lord tariq & muggs talking)Trying to tell you manIm going up in thereTrying to dig into niggas pockets***** that man-{lord tariq}-Either you be real or you be deadHey killer, be a killerThats the rules to this gameIn the court of the lawWith let niggas that feel yaThey know cat dealersBut with some new shit, like clue shitWe strap for this thrillerYou hit the crack house, you pull a mack out***** the mack back, blow his back outAnd take the back routeAnd thats what thats aboutUnderstand? I want cans in handThis shit is real, never phonyDont come short with my mo-neyIll only tell you once tonyDont ***** me, dont you ever try to ***** meIf so, trust me, you outta luck bAnd try to sit high where them drugs beFilthy rich looking broke***** a ***** I want the world thustKeeping feds of my assI gotta think fastcause black man white town you know this shit wont lastWe try to bumble like assStay low, got to hurl that cashInto the trouble blow past, thats how you do itChorus:We got cops and robbersNiggas and spicksFlashy cars, ghetto starsMoving stones and bricksIt aint over on the streetsWe got blocks to getSo heads up, guns *****Dont get rocked to this(2x)-{lord tariq}-Now if the good die youngThen what the ***** that makes me?And who the ***** are you to rape me?Less then the best, bulletproof loveThe thugs holding it down in the decksAnd for the frauds I got techsHeading straight for your chestFeel me on thisMy word is pricelessYou cant pawn thisI might diss drop jewelsThe way I cop jewelsThe way my nine drops fluesThe way my mind influesWhats a nigga to do a murderType of shit you never heard of>from jimbos to fat burgerOn some last long shitI be doing this forever like that nigga von zeilPlus I calm shit, I bomb shitI had alot of brooklyn niggasSaying yeah them bronx niggas they get downSo hold your heat up, and move fastYou got to keepBecause clue, minnesota, lord tariq run these streets whatNigga peep up, talking to the sidewalkAnd theres nothing to comprehendWhen my nine talksChorus(2x)-{muggs}-I peep the devil screaming bkcause I rock for b.i.g.Live like pop did, shells couldnt stop the kidIn some rap I pack, used to be in passing for crackMolka type of lid with a passing for stacksDreads call me african black named after my medicineStreet veteran with one gunKilled eleven menIts too crazy, yall fake tough guys with full gazisBlue mercedes, three pounds under the blue avyBomb crews my mind power beyond youNow I push your hair line backDo what the con doI warned you, and sworn no talkingBring the thing outGot the block surrounded like copsAnd shots rang outAnimal instinct, blood type is therobreedRun with thero headsLeave you in another burough bedRespect my hood, like the heats doBe k to the bronxPoor kane, lord tariq & clueChorus(2x)Dj clue:Uh-huhDj clue, professionalRoc-a-fella!
