Drag-on - C'mon C'mon Lyrics
UhYeah, yeah, yeahCmon cmonWhat what whatCmon (come *****)Cmon cmon(come *****)When yall niggas run on my blockYou gon get itAnd that ***** you tryin to pop (I done hit that)I done hit itYou still tryin to find my style?You gon get lostAnd those that think they can touchGon get taughtSure we can flow till my gunHad to go off (blahhh)I do a hundred in the windOn the turnpikeAll you hear is we-we-weenThats a dirt bikeAnd you can put em up or shut em upCuz when we get em up we hit em upHoes aint good enoughMy fires gonna make dustNow who the one do the talkin? (who dat? )Yall niggas gonna split a coffinYou can call that 50/50Break it down to the nitty-gritty (uh-huh)Now what you see isWhatcha gon getThats .58, dead weight, chrome straight, your faceNow let me see ya get em upBob and weave backSince when, a nigga be through his pack?Now when it come down to my shitBetta leave thatCmon cmon[chorus: drag-on & various- 2xs]:Your hoe dont wanna be mine?Better save your daughterYour coke compared to mineIs baking sodaYall niggas want a war?Better send yo soldiersMy life is on the lineFor the new world orderSoon Im gonna flow over(like what? ) like water (cmon)When niggas be drowninThey look smallerI dont give a ***** what they might call yaIt can be moe or cristalIll pour yaIm done with the hype shitI keep a tight grip (my gun)But only then (whats that? )A bullet might slipGrowin up in these here streetsIs grittyWe dont do a lot of talkinIn this cityIts down to pap pap papNo pity (my gun)Then woo-woo woo-woo (police)Go sirensWhile drag-dash-onIs hidinCuz we dont do a lot of runninI keep firinAnd as long as they payinA fews dyinI dont care if its plastic or ironIts like the money in my pocketIll fold yaAnd if your niggas aint tell youI shoulda told yaCmon, cmon[chorus 2x]When my niggas swing this sawed off (blahhh)Get ya shit blown off (uh-huh)Cuz if yall niggas looking for a fist fightShit, well not tonightCuz when we swing them things (lights out)You gon see the lightI dont care if its heaven or hellThey wont biteYall niggas got beef with drag-on?Cmon, cmon, cmon, cmon, cmonYall niggas is gettin too closeBack up, back up, back up, back up, back upYall niggas gonna make my gun goBlacka, blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka!!Ruff ryder gonna make sure yall dontCome backThe only nigga thats allowed to come backIs a nigga that smoke the crackAnd when it come down to our g-stacksWe want thatNow let me see you count that (my money)We dont want no ones back (my money)Them tens and twentiesIs how I like to see my moneyAnd ima run like Im on hot sand (hot sand)With my shoes off (hot shit)Make sure nobody make a moveTill the crews offAnd I mean this game I winsAnd you lostAnd the only way they gonna catch meIs on the cover of the new sourceCmon cmon[chorus 4x]
