Godfather lyrics

Artist  : Shyne 
Song : Godfather



 Send "Godfather" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

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

Uh huh, Uh huh, Brooklyn
Vietnam
What you, Uh yeah, Uh, Come
on

Oh no, big Shyne Po
Back up in the
motherfuckin heezy for sheezy
Gimme a tech
that don't jam (bang bang)
I'm tryin to jucks
some more grams and work this whole thing
My
minds poisoned, corrupted and diseased
360
ki's
Money make the world spin
I make your
chest smoke
Have your mother singing
hymms
Particles of your brains up on your
tims
Kiss you before I twist you
170
miles
Headed for disaster faster
I put it
down right
Bustin off these rounds
like
Real niggaz is kings
You ain't rockin'
that crown right
Harder more PK
watches
Topless, bitches in cars
Only meals
could heal my scars

[Chorus]
Niggaz
wanna rhyme like shine like me
They supposed
to
Niggaz wanna bust their guns like
me
They supposed to
Niggaz wanna grind like
crime like me
They supposed to
Niggaz wanna
mash like me, dash like
me

[Repeat]

Allegations got me
pacin'
Grand jury wouldn't understand my
fury
For fast cars and jewelry
I could give
a fuck if there's a heaven for a G
This is
heaven for me
Go to trial never plea
Do a
bullet and come home to the throne
I don't
rhyme, I just talk about this life that's
mine
I've seen niggaz die, in front of my
eyes
Doin' my filth
Niggaz is expiring like
milk
Different strokes for different
folks
Just give me, different coke in
different boats
Black Aristotle Onassis
All
I see is crack addicts and automatics
You rap
niggaz is faggots
Y'all cannot be
serious
I'm in coupes with gucci
interiors
Airin' out your areas
Tech nines,
two in the flex and shit
Lookin' at myself
like
Yo, I'm the best in this

[Chorus
x2]

Sometimes I really wonder
What's it
all about?
How many bitches can I fuck until I
get out
How many ki's can I cut, guns can I
bust
Wigs can I push, spots can I
juck
Every single one, cuz I'm a fuckin'
savage
Til I'm cremated, most hated, self
made
Blood type G
All these young hustlers
wanna bubble like me
They supposed
to
Sippin on syrup, until I perish
Pickin'
bitches off the run-way
Look forward to,
gun-play
Go to sleep with one eye shut
Wake
up and do the same shit
I ain't never gonna
change bitch
And that's the cycle
I don't
wanna be like Michael
More like Darrell
Porter
Gettin' shipments at the
border

Yeah, it's a wrappity
wrap

[Chorus x4]