2 To Da Head lyrics

Artist  : Frukwan 
Song : 2 To Da Head



 Send "2 To Da Head" Ringtone to your Cell 

 







  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  








[Intro: Frukwan]

Check it out... check it out..

Yo.. yo... yo



[Chorus 2X: Frukwan]

Little Johnny Walker Red, 2 to the head

Big shot, slingin' crack and rocks, found
dead

Some say it was the cops

Mothers said it was our brothers on the block



[Frukwan]

Yo, makin' stacks of cash money, feel the drama
drop

CREAM of the crop, I keep it hot

Feel the rhyme in it, dominant, fake ass
talkin'

Muthafuckas fuck the wine, get ya mind open

So he wanna sail with the six pack?

Cork his thought, shit to muzzle, chase a
trouble, pass, guzzle

It's lookin' bad, sellin' every fuckin' thing
that he had

Osirus, weak ass computer virus

The vintage fighter, Johnny United

Claim to be the finest heavyweight, walkin'
Empire State

Livin' lavish, but in exaggerate of lust

Funds way to the tongues, no excuse for bigger
guns

Rendevous makin' moves, the physical endevour

Hypin' fright, kill and excite, my P.
defender

Rended you in comp, like a hundred niggaz when
they stomp

Muthafuckas get stomped, what?



[Chorus 2X]



[Frukwan]

Yo, watch when brothers get ill, I knew that

Pain and repurcuss', bust, bust, no discuss

Rush in position to blaze, stard bustin'

Circumstance put you in a panic, hold ya
cannon

Fox 5, got ya hangin' from the wire

Where the debris trunks, pieces of lead heat up
ya body

In six to avenge what it is, when a brother gets
shell shocked

Figure enemies paradox

The tense, relentless, never end this

The scandal was assault and bust the vault

Brothers that fought, at ease

Crash the 'ment, just to free up butts

Lookin' forward and to livin' it up

Five/six deep, followin' Jeeps and ordernents

Weapon supply, fugitive spies, subordinants

Smoke screen, three brothers done lost their
lives

From the team, while gettin' get caught up in the
government scheme



[Chorus 2X]



[Frukwan]

Yo, brace the armor, face the cap slugs in your
back

We escape, through the labryinth,  hope

Battle is skilled decision, act of precision

The coke was depth bein' the only one left

Couldn't divide the rules skated with the
jewels

Lay low with pesos, chronic and blow

Add a couple stunts, and his trail got cold

Headed straight for the block when he drove his
Rolls

Seen and heard, yo, word, give me the four

Point blank at the tank, empty clip at the
dour

Slow your roll, the pain was too immense to
run

Knew that his time would come, top issue

Branded by a government official

The boys in blue, Paparazzi circled the block

Rounded up six cats whose phones were tapped

Still frontin', nobody knew nothin', yo!



[Chorus 2X]