Where Ya From lyrics

Artist  : Tec-9 
Song : Where Ya From



 Send "Where Ya From" Ringtone to your Cell 

 
f/ B.G.







Chorus [Tec-9]:







Where you from?Represent where you from nigga!



Where you from? Where you from?Where your
from?



Take it to the street twerk somethin' twerk
somethin'



Now take it to the street twerk sometin' twerk
somethin'



Where you from?Represent where you from nigga!



Where you from? Where you from?Where your
from?



Take it to the street twerk somethin' twerk
somethin'



Now take it to the street twerk sometin' twerk
somethin'







First Verse [Tec-9]:







Now that the heat done scorched ya, I sparked
at'cha



Laughed at'cha, you know you done fucked up with
the master



And you still suckin' on my dick,



Because you bite my shit, and recite my shit



Switch my rhymes all around and you sing my
shit



Partners-N-Crime, y'all bitches with that war
claimin'



Y'all be claimin' the seventeenth, but never
hangin'



Have you ever put in work for your hood?



You niggas talk about that boy, rap about that
boy



But you coward muthafuckas never seen that boy



Y'all the fakest muthafuckas alive!



Tell me where y'all from?Nigga tell me where the
fuck y'all from?



If you don't wanna survive then keep it up,



And let me give you the 3rd Ward treatment,



Coward bitches always with that creepin'



If I would have caught'cha, 



I would have brought'cha in the Calliope and
burnt'cha like a bitch



Cuz I don't got no love for these niggas or these
cliques



I'm sick of the hoe shit, the Black Connection
ready to take a hit



I got a posse full of niggas and they bout it,



I represent, to the fullest,



Supplyin' my niggas with only hollow tip
bullets



Like Yella said, you should have thought twice
when you said my name



By now you know you said the fuckin' wrong name
mane



Don't let me catch'cha, I wet'cha put that on my
Mama



You niggas lame, nothin' shakin' y'all ain't bout
no drama



So let me hear ya holler, if ya feel me,



And after this you bitches prolly wanna come and
kill me



But I'm unfadeable, on top of that you got no
balls,



Cuz when the drama jumps off, your shit falls



And I don't need no introduction,



Cuz I'm crackin' your bitch face with phat
lyrics, and phat production







Chorus







Second Verse [Tec-9]:







Now I'ma do it like a real G do it,



I'm walkin', and my four ten is doin' the
talkin'



I do my dirt on the cool, fa sho,



Handle business by myself and dump your body in
the Melph,



Then I call up my nigga from the Black
Connection,



And tell them what I want them to do with the
rest of your CLIQUE



Even the ones that ain't down with the
bullshit,



The good guys suffer for the bad guys rip



Don't ever cross a G, like me,



The muthafuckin' capital T, to the E, to the
C,



You never heard the name P-N-C floatin' on the
streets,



Until them bitches started dissin' U.N.L.V.



I can't respect'cha cuz you not original,



And you still tryin' to sound like Reginold



Yeah, my style is buck wild, my flow is like the
Nile,



And the B.G. is hyper, earnin' stripes like a
tiger,



Chop yo ass like Viper, and wash you like a
windshield wiper



So call Mama, tell her that you won't be makin'
dinner,



And leave the Police out, or else I'll go and get
her



Lil' Ya will put the Tec in they mouth,



Bring it out, so we can show them bitches what
it's all about,



(What it's all about)







Chorus







Third Verse [B.G.]







Big Boy you better skip town nigga, don't hang
around nigga



Cuz if I catch'cha, I'ma bring ya down nigga,



I'ma clown nigga, with the seventeen rounds
nigga,



BLUCKA, BLUCKA to yo head, how that sound
nigga?



Knowin' you ain't bout that drama talkin' above
yo head



Fat mouth nigga and they'll find yo monkey ass
dead



A Baby Gangsta, straight bout it and I'm ready to
prove it,



If you bout it, there it is partner we can do
it,



Pussy says "Drama Time", where the fuck
you at?



You on wax talkin' about let's go gat for gat,



But it don't count like that, put aside
rappin',



Let's start strappin', bring on the cappin'



I got a clique with glocks, choppers, and
Mac-11's



Nigga tryin' to build nuts off a case that's
dumped for seven



But I'ma show ya some real street shit,



Underestimate a B.G., bound to get'cha head
split



I already keep a roll of duct tape and rope
Black,



So watch'cha back, because you'll find yourself
smacked



I already said I'd get that pussy with the braids
but he duckin',



Curious, he must have heard I'm serious



They givin' me a mean look because they bigger



I don't know what make'em figure, that I won't
pull the trigger



But that's where they wrong at,



Cuz I'll wax they fuckin' patch



Fuck that boot camp clique, I'll send ya to Hell
nigga,



If you want the B.G., you'll find me on V.L.
nigga,



When you get it on your mind, we can flex
skills,



Y'all say you got a hundred G's, but my niggas
got a mill.



So wassup?Put your money where that dick go



Chuck!You ole trick ass hoe



Stop playin' with me, I done did enough
speakin',



Hollows I'ma be releasin', blood just a
leakin'



Get your nuts out'cha stomach my nigga,



Get your heart out'cha ass nigga



Never had my dick sucked by a man before,



Mystikal you gone be the first you lil' trick ass
hoe







Chorus