For The Record lyrics

Artist  : Shyne 
Song : For The Record



 Send "For The Record" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

Artist : Shyne Feat. Foxy Brown
Album :
Godfather Buried Alive
Song : For The
Record

Where it at Where it
at
Uhh
[repeat 3x]

[Verse 1]
Ohh
you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his
face
He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like
ma$e
Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga
used to sound like Case
Maybe I'm juss killin,
maybe he juss snitchin
See a whole lot
different from my cell in Clinton
What I see
is straight bug, straight thoro
Yea he be a
killa, you kill wit bugs
Rather look at the
facts not the hype
Like who got shot and who
got knifed
Who keep gettin struck, but don't
neva strike
Hope the beef go away but the feds
indict
I know yo card nigga, it's so
clear
You juss wanna sell record you don't
want warfare
You don't wanna ride you wanna
get rich and hide
These niggaz would've died
if they shot me nine times
Heyy it's juss for
the record
Take this mob shit seriouse, please
respect it

[Hook]
And there go the shots
stay rippin 'em apart
Cuz it's a blood comin
outta his heart
It's murdah bloody homicide is
what they cry
When they losin' their
life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at
night
Pretty cold witta slug might heat me
tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what
underneath feels like
It's my work by the surf
when they turn off the lights

[Verse
2]
You ain't kill homi(cide) 'cause if you
did
Why you ain't get the pen after all of
that hit
You know I know, that if you
live
That shit that you spit, somebody got
somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got
cut
Yoo pac's a nigga, nobody got
shot
Nobody got flushed, you screamin what
what
Okay okay killa you'sa slut
Think
about it, enoughs enoughs
I'm tryna show 'em
whoes who
And what is what
I mean how can I
respect you
When them niggaz that left you
ain't none of 'em blessed you
(not
nobody)
You know where they are, where they
perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin
songs
Please no more ghetto quran
You got
money now it's time to bomb
And that's juss
from the top
Take this mob shit seriouse
please respect it

And there go the shots
stay rippin 'em apart [2x]
Cuz it's a blood
comin outta his heart

[Verse 3]
Death
of perfection as I move witout motion
Ain't no
nigga in his game doin the shit that I'm
quotin'
Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a
see enought of me
Might be sum otha g's tryna
trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of
old
Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on
po
That shouldn't excist, fuckin snitch
Cut
of his dick, put it on his lips
You really
think I was gon' let you slide
Fuckin wit me
you must be outcho mind
You really think jail
was gon' make thinks right
Nigga I will shoot
you till you lose yo life
I was mindin' my
own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po
I
was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to
go
Gangland this is the mob
You got yo
break come finish yo job
Juss don't get the
feds involved
And I'mma reunite you wit yo
moms
Rip
I guess this ain't juss
music
Cuz jail only made me much mo' ruthless
(nigga)
And the bitch nigga knew
this
That's why he tryed to sign me to
g-unit
Tell 'em how you made me offers
(I
don't want that blood I'mma godfather)
Jumped
on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you
don't get that honor
The feds I paid fo
that
10 years up top
I sell 'em much
shop
Both of ya was blood
Took the bus wit
cuz
Want gun fo gun
I earned my lug
You,
you juss pathetic
You neva bg, bespite yo
average
Take this mob shit serioue, you gon'
respect it
Tha's juss fo the
record

[Hook]
And there go the shots
stay rippin 'em apart
Cuz it's a blood comin
outta his heart
It's murdah bloody homicide is
what they cry
When they losin' their
life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at
night
Pretty cold witta slug might heat me
tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what
underneath feels like
It's my work by the surf
when they turn off the light