Pop Da Brown Hornet - No More Mr. Nice Guy Lyrics
[intro]Aiyo, got ya mutha*****a seein stars(brown hornet, pop)Blastin mutha*****as out the mutha*****in box(out the box)[pop da brown hornet]Shake rattle & roll, ratters than ya peasants ya peasantsForm a line, while i'm handin out presentsStiff jabs or stiff kicks, for a niggaBig back with stiff dick, for my *****esBurn like a cancer stick, free loaded spitThem cops that killed diallo, they can suck my dick41 shots, enough lead to take a city examOr ain't that one man with the nypdWho need the ku klux klanI ain't runnin or hiddin, like 2pac i'm riddin and dyinNew york, new york, it's where brothers are sportMake it to the playoffs, don't get happy get ya head blown offWe got dick for nuts, puttin fingers on red buttonsReady to launch, tellin us, turnin ya armsHell no baby, ya devils must be crazyOut of ya mind, i'm holdin on to my nineChorus: smoke (pop da brown hornet)No more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)No more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)No more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)No more mr. mr. mr. mr. mr. mr.[pop da brown hornet]You hold every sentimentalAs for me, i lost my feelings somewhere inside the templeWhere they got throat cutters and back stabbersA life is lost right in front of your eyes, nothing really mattersYou just go on living, projects is like prisonWe got fags and dikes, razor blades and knifesHomo thugs, and all type of drugsAddicts, snitches, *****es, holdin ya picturesWith nothin on but a thong***** me, leave at night, for a trailer visit, ***** you in the mornBad boys, we killin toys, they muffle and noiseNever lose they boys, they just keep on squeezinBodies drop for no reason, kill you for breathinRumble till we even, or till one of us dieEye for an eye, yo it's no more mr. nice guyHeads gotta fly, we 'em up, let 'em hang dryChoke 'em till they pass out, wake up in ya briefsPlayin for keeps, yo ***** you and your peepsNever had it good, my last album went woodBought my words when you hear this, i'm movin out the hoodTakin no prisoners, no eye witnesses, if ya sensitiveBack up, you want no part of thisGhetto bastard, who never got his ass kickedI just stay kickin ass, got the mic and the smashStep up, feel the blast from the brown bomberYou don't really want drama, quick to start shitBut then go runnin to ya mama "dial 911Brown hornet on the new cent, he *****in with my son"***** tell that piece of shit to finish what he startedWith this cold hearted, half retarded, hip hop artistWeak rapper, told ya lame ass not to cryBut you gotta fry *****in wit no more mr. nice guyChorus[outro]Aiyo, aiyo, aiyo, this smoke right hereThe new millennium, ain't no more mr. nice guyThat's right, that's rightWhen you see us in the club, there's no more mr. nice guyWhen you see us in the streets, no more mr. nice guyThat's right, baby pop, brown hornet babySmoke records, rns productions, ain't no more mr. nice guyWe're not playin, it's not a game
