Handle Ur Bizness Lyrics
| Song | Handle Ur Bizness |
| Artist | M.O.P. |
| Album | First Family 4 Life |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Elliott, Grinnage, Murry | |
| Check, check, check | |
| Chorus： | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze：handle your business | |
| Can't get your grip | |
| M.o.p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Grip your steel | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze: handle your business | |
| Can't get your grip | |
| M.o.p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Back out your steel | |
| Rah*echoes* | |
| Verse one: lil' fame | |
| What the rawdog feelin? | |
| An author like, terry mcmillan | |
| The cat that, maniac | |
| My fam dark as death in less than a minute | |
| (the world stop spinnin) | |
| The rapid firing squad | |
| Keep on mix fire and (hard to kill) | |
| Loud wires and bombs, firing arms | |
| Look, we all for it | |
| Its the dutch burning herbalice | |
| Gallon drinkin alcoholics | |
| Walk through your toughest pack of goons with my chain out | |
| Kept it real ever since the first jam came out | |
| First family turned this whole rap game out | |
| Sheisty individuals, tryin to wipe my name out | |
| But they don't fuck around cause they know i back that thing out | |
| And try to mark em off when the gun shots ring out | |
| And in the myst of black, kid i'ma try to wipe they name out | |
| And keep on dubbin till i break a fucking spring out | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse two: billy danze | |
| You motherfuckas better raise up (they already did) | |
| Who that? the '87 stick up kids (we're back!) | |
| I'm hopin that your focused on the side | |
| Cause frontin on me and my, mad niggaz die | |
| Is this hiphop? hell no, this is war | |
| I've been trying to tell you that since ? rocked some hardcore | |
| You don't listen. see, gee | |
| I'm on a mission. look, be | |
| They gonna find your ass missing | |
| Ever since me and fame came, we maintained | |
| A strange, but a strong game | |
| (that can't change!) | |
| The real ghetto bad shit for blastin, subtractin | |
| Those that ain't matchin my fashion i'm mashin | |
| (retality's real) fatality's ill | |
| When your stash in my path then your stash is a raw deal | |
| (clap, clap) get your gat | |
| (buckabuckabubububububububuckabucka) blow, blow, get the fuck back | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse three: | |
| Lil' fame: face mine cause i'm here | |
| Dog its' all clear | |
| Rap jewels put it on my baseline from a snare | |
| Then the wanna doubt the kid | |
| Who analyze this whole fucking shit? | |
| Trying to make somethin out of it | |
| Explode quicker than landmines | |
| M.o.p. tapes make earthquakes and cause landslides | |
| Bump this in your lex coupe | |
| Or your lex hoop | |
| Danze, finish em, twenty-one gun salute | |
| (the crew) | |
| Billy danze: how many niggas runnin with me? *pause* (this few) | |
| A hundred niggaz gunnin with me *pause* (to shoot) | |
| Firing squad, draw blood on the enemy | |
| At point-blank range, deliverin the penalty | |
| Ain't nothing but the thugs | |
| Slangin out hollow slugs | |
| (nigga), anti-love keepin it real (thug, let em slide today) | |
| I'm known best for leavin em stretchin like doc holliday | |
| Salute! *main beat stops, baseline continues* | |
| *beat comes back in* |
| zuo qu : Elliott, Grinnage, Murry | |
| Check, check, check | |
| Chorus: | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze: handle your business | |
| Can' t get your grip | |
| M. o. p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Grip your steel | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze: handle your business | |
| Can' t get your grip | |
| M. o. p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Back out your steel | |
| Rah echoes | |
| Verse one: lil' fame | |
| What the rawdog feelin? | |
| An author like, terry mcmillan | |
| The cat that, maniac | |
| My fam dark as death in less than a minute | |
| the world stop spinnin | |
| The rapid firing squad | |
| Keep on mix fire and hard to kill | |
| Loud wires and bombs, firing arms | |
| Look, we all for it | |
| Its the dutch burning herbalice | |
| Gallon drinkin alcoholics | |
| Walk through your toughest pack of goons with my chain out | |
| Kept it real ever since the first jam came out | |
| First family turned this whole rap game out | |
| Sheisty individuals, tryin to wipe my name out | |
| But they don' t fuck around cause they know i back that thing out | |
| And try to mark em off when the gun shots ring out | |
| And in the myst of black, kid i' ma try to wipe they name out | |
| And keep on dubbin till i break a fucking spring out | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse two: billy danze | |
| You motherfuckas better raise up they already did | |
| Who that? the ' 87 stick up kids we' re back! | |
| I' m hopin that your focused on the side | |
| Cause frontin on me and my, mad niggaz die | |
| Is this hiphop? hell no, this is war | |
| I' ve been trying to tell you that since ? rocked some hardcore | |
| You don' t listen. see, gee | |
| I' m on a mission. look, be | |
| They gonna find your ass missing | |
| Ever since me and fame came, we maintained | |
| A strange, but a strong game | |
| that can' t change! | |
| The real ghetto bad shit for blastin, subtractin | |
| Those that ain' t matchin my fashion i' m mashin | |
| retality' s real fatality' s ill | |
| When your stash in my path then your stash is a raw deal | |
| clap, clap get your gat | |
| buckabuckabubububububububuckabucka blow, blow, get the fuck back | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse three: | |
| Lil' fame: face mine cause i' m here | |
| Dog its' all clear | |
| Rap jewels put it on my baseline from a snare | |
| Then the wanna doubt the kid | |
| Who analyze this whole fucking shit? | |
| Trying to make somethin out of it | |
| Explode quicker than landmines | |
| M. o. p. tapes make earthquakes and cause landslides | |
| Bump this in your lex coupe | |
| Or your lex hoop | |
| Danze, finish em, twentyone gun salute | |
| the crew | |
| Billy danze: how many niggas runnin with me? pause this few | |
| A hundred niggaz gunnin with me pause to shoot | |
| Firing squad, draw blood on the enemy | |
| At pointblank range, deliverin the penalty | |
| Ain' t nothing but the thugs | |
| Slangin out hollow slugs | |
| nigga, antilove keepin it real thug, let em slide today | |
| I' m known best for leavin em stretchin like doc holliday | |
| Salute! main beat stops, baseline continues | |
| beat comes back in |
| zuò qǔ : Elliott, Grinnage, Murry | |
| Check, check, check | |
| Chorus: | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze: handle your business | |
| Can' t get your grip | |
| M. o. p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Grip your steel | |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah | |
| Billy danze: handle your business | |
| Can' t get your grip | |
| M. o. p: can i get a witness?! | |
| Lil' fame: ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled | |
| Back out your steel | |
| Rah echoes | |
| Verse one: lil' fame | |
| What the rawdog feelin? | |
| An author like, terry mcmillan | |
| The cat that, maniac | |
| My fam dark as death in less than a minute | |
| the world stop spinnin | |
| The rapid firing squad | |
| Keep on mix fire and hard to kill | |
| Loud wires and bombs, firing arms | |
| Look, we all for it | |
| Its the dutch burning herbalice | |
| Gallon drinkin alcoholics | |
| Walk through your toughest pack of goons with my chain out | |
| Kept it real ever since the first jam came out | |
| First family turned this whole rap game out | |
| Sheisty individuals, tryin to wipe my name out | |
| But they don' t fuck around cause they know i back that thing out | |
| And try to mark em off when the gun shots ring out | |
| And in the myst of black, kid i' ma try to wipe they name out | |
| And keep on dubbin till i break a fucking spring out | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse two: billy danze | |
| You motherfuckas better raise up they already did | |
| Who that? the ' 87 stick up kids we' re back! | |
| I' m hopin that your focused on the side | |
| Cause frontin on me and my, mad niggaz die | |
| Is this hiphop? hell no, this is war | |
| I' ve been trying to tell you that since ? rocked some hardcore | |
| You don' t listen. see, gee | |
| I' m on a mission. look, be | |
| They gonna find your ass missing | |
| Ever since me and fame came, we maintained | |
| A strange, but a strong game | |
| that can' t change! | |
| The real ghetto bad shit for blastin, subtractin | |
| Those that ain' t matchin my fashion i' m mashin | |
| retality' s real fatality' s ill | |
| When your stash in my path then your stash is a raw deal | |
| clap, clap get your gat | |
| buckabuckabubububububububuckabucka blow, blow, get the fuck back | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse three: | |
| Lil' fame: face mine cause i' m here | |
| Dog its' all clear | |
| Rap jewels put it on my baseline from a snare | |
| Then the wanna doubt the kid | |
| Who analyze this whole fucking shit? | |
| Trying to make somethin out of it | |
| Explode quicker than landmines | |
| M. o. p. tapes make earthquakes and cause landslides | |
| Bump this in your lex coupe | |
| Or your lex hoop | |
| Danze, finish em, twentyone gun salute | |
| the crew | |
| Billy danze: how many niggas runnin with me? pause this few | |
| A hundred niggaz gunnin with me pause to shoot | |
| Firing squad, draw blood on the enemy | |
| At pointblank range, deliverin the penalty | |
| Ain' t nothing but the thugs | |
| Slangin out hollow slugs | |
| nigga, antilove keepin it real thug, let em slide today | |
| I' m known best for leavin em stretchin like doc holliday | |
| Salute! main beat stops, baseline continues | |
| beat comes back in |
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