Motha F*cK You Lyrics
| Song | Motha F*cK You |
| Artist | Soulja Slim |
| Album | Years Later |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : 12 O Clock, Currency ... | |
| (*talking*) | |
| Ah-ah, Cut Throat to the motherfucking | |
| Bone gristle, you understand me | |
| Fuck another nigga, fuck em | |
| [Hook] | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we terrorize niggas | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we ride or die niggas | |
| [Soulja Slim] | |
| I spray gats like raid, when the roaches come out | |
| You wanna fuck with the team, then the coaches come out | |
| Holes in your mouth, bullets leaving holes in your house | |
| Ice block so cold, niggas catching a gout | |
| Set I trends, fucking two cat eyed friends | |
| Getting brain in the back, of the cat-eyed Benz | |
| Black eyed lens, looking like M-I-B | |
| When I be, stomping through your VIP | |
| H.N.I.C., represent that MP3 | |
| Fuck you, you ain't getting nothing from me | |
| But hot lead to your dome, black thick and chrome | |
| That's all I tote, sticky-ayo that's all I smoke | |
| Now there I go rambling, but I could back it up fast | |
| Catch you in the club, I scuffle your bitch ass | |
| Brigadors be down to die for me, soldiers be down to ride for me | |
| Bistanders do get hit, no apologies | |
| [Hook - 2x] | |
| [Curren$y] | |
| Now when the 4-4's, come out | |
| You'd think your whole click was Ludacris, the way they rolling out | |
| It's Curren$y the Hot Spitter, I control the South | |
| Look at who I be around, then you'll know what I'm bout | |
| Brah you don't want me, to come through | |
| Cause one pop out the glock, I'll leave your fat head with a sun roof | |
| Please understand me, brah when my album drop | |
| Me and C-Murder, bringing guns to the Grammy's | |
| Hoes loving on me, so these niggas can't stand me | |
| But they know I got the heat, like Miami | |
| Hot Spitter got loot, growing like mildew | |
| That with the cameras, instead of the rearview | |
| Hit you point blank range, I ain't even near you | |
| My niggas ain't from Pittsburgh, but we'll steal you | |
| Riding on chrome, all 21 and up | |
| Yours under 18, can't even get in the club so | |
| [Hook - 2x] | |
| [Tre-Nitty] | |
| Murder instincts we speaking, tweaking | |
| And leave a nigga, leaking on the concrete | |
| You run up with cowards, all I got is one nigga behind me | |
| At a time to cover my back, and other than that | |
| Ain't too many niggas, gon cover my tracks | |
| So I feed him, with a long handle | |
| Man I'm in the desert, and surviving is a strong gandle | |
| So I can't be walking, in the wrong sandles | |
| Feeling like all I got, is me myself and I | |
| Don't know too many, that I can leave my wealth and die | |
| Empty, cause I know that drama will only increase | |
| And who's gonna carry me, when I'm trapped under them bed sheets | |
| Sealing the sheets with hot blood, niggas steady saying they got love | |
| And I'm the one laying with hot slugs, shit I've been there | |
| And any nigga that I fuck with, is just like me | |
| So when we beefing, that's the nigga you just might see | |
| But everybody claiming know 12, saying we blow wells | |
| And how I hung with him, but can't say what I done with him | |
| [Hook - 4x] |
| zuo ci : 12 O Clock, Currency ... | |
| talking | |
| Ahah, Cut Throat to the motherfucking | |
| Bone gristle, you understand me | |
| Fuck another nigga, fuck em | |
| Hook | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we terrorize niggas | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we ride or die niggas | |
| Soulja Slim | |
| I spray gats like raid, when the roaches come out | |
| You wanna fuck with the team, then the coaches come out | |
| Holes in your mouth, bullets leaving holes in your house | |
| Ice block so cold, niggas catching a gout | |
| Set I trends, fucking two cat eyed friends | |
| Getting brain in the back, of the cateyed Benz | |
| Black eyed lens, looking like MIB | |
| When I be, stomping through your VIP | |
| H. N. I. C., represent that MP3 | |
| Fuck you, you ain' t getting nothing from me | |
| But hot lead to your dome, black thick and chrome | |
| That' s all I tote, stickyayo that' s all I smoke | |
| Now there I go rambling, but I could back it up fast | |
| Catch you in the club, I scuffle your bitch ass | |
| Brigadors be down to die for me, soldiers be down to ride for me | |
| Bistanders do get hit, no apologies | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Curren y | |
| Now when the 44' s, come out | |
| You' d think your whole click was Ludacris, the way they rolling out | |
| It' s Curren y the Hot Spitter, I control the South | |
| Look at who I be around, then you' ll know what I' m bout | |
| Brah you don' t want me, to come through | |
| Cause one pop out the glock, I' ll leave your fat head with a sun roof | |
| Please understand me, brah when my album drop | |
| Me and CMurder, bringing guns to the Grammy' s | |
| Hoes loving on me, so these niggas can' t stand me | |
| But they know I got the heat, like Miami | |
| Hot Spitter got loot, growing like mildew | |
| That with the cameras, instead of the rearview | |
| Hit you point blank range, I ain' t even near you | |
| My niggas ain' t from Pittsburgh, but we' ll steal you | |
| Riding on chrome, all 21 and up | |
| Yours under 18, can' t even get in the club so | |
| Hook 2x | |
| TreNitty | |
| Murder instincts we speaking, tweaking | |
| And leave a nigga, leaking on the concrete | |
| You run up with cowards, all I got is one nigga behind me | |
| At a time to cover my back, and other than that | |
| Ain' t too many niggas, gon cover my tracks | |
| So I feed him, with a long handle | |
| Man I' m in the desert, and surviving is a strong gandle | |
| So I can' t be walking, in the wrong sandles | |
| Feeling like all I got, is me myself and I | |
| Don' t know too many, that I can leave my wealth and die | |
| Empty, cause I know that drama will only increase | |
| And who' s gonna carry me, when I' m trapped under them bed sheets | |
| Sealing the sheets with hot blood, niggas steady saying they got love | |
| And I' m the one laying with hot slugs, shit I' ve been there | |
| And any nigga that I fuck with, is just like me | |
| So when we beefing, that' s the nigga you just might see | |
| But everybody claiming know 12, saying we blow wells | |
| And how I hung with him, but can' t say what I done with him | |
| Hook 4x |
| zuò cí : 12 O Clock, Currency ... | |
| talking | |
| Ahah, Cut Throat to the motherfucking | |
| Bone gristle, you understand me | |
| Fuck another nigga, fuck em | |
| Hook | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we terrorize niggas | |
| Motherfuck you, and your niggas | |
| Cause me and my niggas, we ride or die niggas | |
| Soulja Slim | |
| I spray gats like raid, when the roaches come out | |
| You wanna fuck with the team, then the coaches come out | |
| Holes in your mouth, bullets leaving holes in your house | |
| Ice block so cold, niggas catching a gout | |
| Set I trends, fucking two cat eyed friends | |
| Getting brain in the back, of the cateyed Benz | |
| Black eyed lens, looking like MIB | |
| When I be, stomping through your VIP | |
| H. N. I. C., represent that MP3 | |
| Fuck you, you ain' t getting nothing from me | |
| But hot lead to your dome, black thick and chrome | |
| That' s all I tote, stickyayo that' s all I smoke | |
| Now there I go rambling, but I could back it up fast | |
| Catch you in the club, I scuffle your bitch ass | |
| Brigadors be down to die for me, soldiers be down to ride for me | |
| Bistanders do get hit, no apologies | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Curren y | |
| Now when the 44' s, come out | |
| You' d think your whole click was Ludacris, the way they rolling out | |
| It' s Curren y the Hot Spitter, I control the South | |
| Look at who I be around, then you' ll know what I' m bout | |
| Brah you don' t want me, to come through | |
| Cause one pop out the glock, I' ll leave your fat head with a sun roof | |
| Please understand me, brah when my album drop | |
| Me and CMurder, bringing guns to the Grammy' s | |
| Hoes loving on me, so these niggas can' t stand me | |
| But they know I got the heat, like Miami | |
| Hot Spitter got loot, growing like mildew | |
| That with the cameras, instead of the rearview | |
| Hit you point blank range, I ain' t even near you | |
| My niggas ain' t from Pittsburgh, but we' ll steal you | |
| Riding on chrome, all 21 and up | |
| Yours under 18, can' t even get in the club so | |
| Hook 2x | |
| TreNitty | |
| Murder instincts we speaking, tweaking | |
| And leave a nigga, leaking on the concrete | |
| You run up with cowards, all I got is one nigga behind me | |
| At a time to cover my back, and other than that | |
| Ain' t too many niggas, gon cover my tracks | |
| So I feed him, with a long handle | |
| Man I' m in the desert, and surviving is a strong gandle | |
| So I can' t be walking, in the wrong sandles | |
| Feeling like all I got, is me myself and I | |
| Don' t know too many, that I can leave my wealth and die | |
| Empty, cause I know that drama will only increase | |
| And who' s gonna carry me, when I' m trapped under them bed sheets | |
| Sealing the sheets with hot blood, niggas steady saying they got love | |
| And I' m the one laying with hot slugs, shit I' ve been there | |
| And any nigga that I fuck with, is just like me | |
| So when we beefing, that' s the nigga you just might see | |
| But everybody claiming know 12, saying we blow wells | |
| And how I hung with him, but can' t say what I done with him | |
| Hook 4x |
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