| Lyrics: | Krayzie:
Don't niggas don't wanna start shit.
Buck, buck to the bang. Sendin' bullets to the
brain, nigga. Yeah.
A nigga that always at my city with me,
now, who was that nigga
they put in the plastic?
Nigga that thought he could bang.
That nigga's stuck. That nigga's
blasted.
They got my man from the Land. Never ran,
I step with deadly men.
If ya come a
little bit closer, I can turn you into sand.
Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to
Cleveland.
We thuggin', we theivin', we put it in deep, and the blood is seepin'.
Got niggas
in alleys, fuck niggas in badges. We say bang.
Eighty-eight through the ten-five (and
Clair).
St. Clair ain't shit to fuck with. Pumpin',
Krayzie be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody
body.
Me never knew one that could flow with the tongue.
We comin' to shoot up your
posse.
My niggas--they comin' up out the woods, to get the goods.
Krayzie be thug, and (want
to) die--that's from comin' up in my hood.
We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me
gun,
bust one, they done. Cleveland
is where we from. Hearts--thugs have none.
Chours:
High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really no place to
run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, 'cause even the bitches carry
guns.
Bizzy:
Soon as I hit the scene, Samething,
feelin' for a pistol, but I didn't
have no gun.
Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin' it with me tongue.
Nigga,
Cleveland is the city where we come from,
and I show them hoes up outta the club
that thugs
don't run from none.
Follow rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me back.
And I'm
throwin' up St. Clair thugsta niggas,
with or without my gat.- |
