Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Wesley Weston, Writer Unknown
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Lil' FlipFuck Dat Nigga Lyrics:
Oh yeah, all the fucked niggaz gotta get the fuck out the way
Know what time it is nigga, Screwed Up Click
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
Keep running your mouth
I'ma touch that nigga
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
You ain't heard about my state
We Screwed Up nigga
Will-Lean you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
B.G. Duke you riding
(Yeah I'm riding)
Z-Ro, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Point Blank, you riding
(Hell yeah, I'm riding)
Motherfuck you, I'll rush you, bitch, I don't trust you
Like AT&T, my guillotines reach out and touch ya
Bust ya like a head off your shoulders, then dust ya
Pluck my Desert Eagle to the bone, then crush ya
See I'm a hustler, just look at my wrist
All yellow canary diamonds, looking like piss
Yo Flip, these boys acting sour
I got money and respect, plus I'm packing power
Stacking up dollars, niggaz wanna fuck with me
If it's hood, it's all good, so tuck your heat
Even though I'm on parole, I still clutch my heat
Pick up the street sweeper, to sweep up the street
I got my serve, that ain't your mama
Smack you with the pistol and tell ya, I ain't your mama
I'm ready for drama, I sleep with the fo' pound
It ain't shit to send my free lancers to your town
Ladies, we just ain't talking 'bout you
'Cause some of these niggaz is bitches too
And you know who, no need to say no name
I'ma gas these niggaz up, like a tank of propane
They say we ain't strapped, they lied to ya
They say Flip ain't from Cloverland, they lied to ya
We got the mansion,n three kitchen, ain't lying brah
Maybach, reclining seats, 'case we get tired, brah
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
Keep running your mouth
I'ma touch that nigga
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
You ain't heard about my state
We Screwed Up nigga
Will-Lean, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
B.G. Duke, you riding
(Yeah I'm riding)
Z-Ro, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Point Blank, you riding
(Hell yeah, I'm riding)
Every time I open my mouth, I'ma see talking shit
Fuck a rap nigga, I slap niggaz, it's best you keep on walking bitch
I represent the Southside of Screwston, Texas
Got my name spinning in yellow diamonds
Right up under my Rap-A-Lot necklace
But fuck some shine, brah, I'll loosen your tooth
Better get wet ya with my tech weapon and swoop in the coupe
'Cause I'm a gangsta my nigga, coming from the left side
Equipped with a pistol grip, that will open your chest wide
I'm the King of the Ghetto, I gave myself that name
Ain't nobody help me get rich, I made myself that change
Talking 'bout charging me twenty thousand dollars to spit a verse
Bitch, I'm a legend, read about me, fuck it, come and see about me
Right now I'm barring eleven niggaz and seven record labels
You can jump your narrow ass in line and straight up get strangled
Z-Ro, the Crooked, the gangsta of the Screwed Up Click
Fuck all that ear boxing, go 'head and lace ya shoes up, bitch
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
Keep running your mouth
I'ma touch that nigga
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
You ain't heard about my state
We Screwed Up nigga
Will-Lean, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
B.G. Duke, you riding
(Yeah I'm riding)
Z-Ro, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Point Blank, you riding
(Hell yeah, I'm riding)
Watch your mouth now, 'cause what you say can bring death
One day you gon' say some shit a nigga can't accept
Point Blank, the Bull, a big chip off the old block
It ain't gotta be in Cloverland to be a Clover Gee block
Boy, we run this shit, Flip having fun with this shit
And you tripping, Blank, how the fuck you get a gun in this bitch?
When I see him ninety nice, Southside gon' be iight
I know I might do some time, just shoot me a kite
I write straight from the heart, so I shoot straight for the heart
If Flip said fuck T.I., then it's fuck that mark
Southsi' for li', till I flat line trick
Talk a lot of shit but I can back mine, bitch, what's up?
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
Keep running your mouth
I'ma touch that nigga
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
You ain't heard about my state
We Screwed Up nigga
Will-Lean, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
B.G. Duke, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Z-Ro, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Point Blank, you riding
(Hell yeah, I'm riding)
Oh no, that nigga ain't scaring me
Look, I don't wanna hear about, your ass weighing ki's
This lil' nigga ain't a threat, you a peon nigga
'Cause in my hood, I play the corner like Deon nigga
Them niggaz only fucking with you, 'cause you pay 'em for beats
And I saw that bullshit, grill you got on your teeth
My grill cost thirty G's, my ice cost fifteen
Say you gained a lil' weight if you drank some lean
Hey, I got beef with a nigga that weigh eighty pounds
He wear my bracelet in the pool, that nigga'd probably drown
Big Oomp got my back, Pastor Troy got my back
And you know, Ludacris got my fucking back
Asking 'bout my whole team, he know I roll with G's
So why should I fear a man that bleed like me
Down in Texas, we ain't feeling you, kid
As far as record sales go, I'm killing you, bitch
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
Keep running your mouth
I'ma touch that nigga
Man, fuck that nigga
(Fuck that nigga)
You ain't heard about my state
We Screwed Up nigga
Will-Lean, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
B.G. Duke, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Z-Ro, you riding
(Yeah, I'm riding)
Point Blank, you riding
(Hell yeah, I'm riding)
Nigga, now how you gon' try to charge Z-Ro
Twenty grand for a mo'fucking verse
Nigga, that shit ain't worth
A goddamn wing dinner bitch
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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