Suckas Need Bodyguards Lyrics
| Song | Suckas Need Bodyguards |
| Artist | Gang Starr |
| Album | Hard To Earn |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Elam, Guru, Martin | |
| MC's be fakin' so now they get taken | |
| Chorus: | |
| Fake MC's, they always act hard | |
| But won't walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| I hate fake MC's, they always act hard | |
| But won't walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| Verse One: | |
| MC's I lay out like stiffs in the morgue | |
| Praise the lord you're in awe when I'm gripping my mic cord | |
| Rhymes I rip with swift execution | |
| One verse could coerce your girl to prostitution | |
| The Guru is now the brother that you fear and | |
| beware when I'm making hits with Premier and | |
| Rolling to a spot near you, lyrics tear through | |
| Chrome to your dome you better watch your rear view | |
| Niggas been held back too long we're coming up | |
| In the streets we roll alone so watch me running up | |
| I'm summing up a mad posse of warriors | |
| Night crusaders able to break down barriers | |
| and bringing faces of death putting MC's to rest | |
| until there's no fake chumps left | |
| Run. Step. Yeah, bounce nigga, bounce | |
| My rhyme's a cargo when yours is just a quarter ounce | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Gangstarr boy and that's beyond your comprehension | |
| Mad brothers in every city you can feel the tension | |
| To stop the killing wack mc's must die | |
| Who am I? I'm the substance that'll make your third eye cry | |
| Too potent, too high in intelligence quotient | |
| when I unleash my speech I'll have you punk rappers open | |
| I won't expose your names and your identities | |
| You know you're phoney get the **** from in front of me | |
| Hardcore fans are fed up from your folklore | |
| Lines strip you raw and infect you like cold sores | |
| and I hope you're not the one that I'm after | |
| Since the days of Adidas I've been a true master | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Three: | |
| I've been around, punk. But yo, I still feel young | |
| A few of my crew members like to pack guns | |
| I'm high strung but don't mistake me when I smile | |
| I murder an entire rap chart with my freestyle | |
| After the killing just like Casper; I'm ghost | |
| Fakes thought I was friendly, at their wakes I was host | |
| Toast without a gun you'd be done | |
| Throw up your hands bitch and now you know you stand to lose one | |
| Choose one metaphor and then choose another | |
| Wax that ass like a bully have you calling your big brother | |
| Although I'm five foot eight they call me sergeant | |
| Got more hoes in my dick than you can fit in the garden | |
| At Madison Square I shot a fair one | |
| So many niggaz knew me that the kid wouldn't dare run | |
| MC's pay cash to ensure their safety | |
| They know they can't take me; the G-A-N-G, you crazy? | |
| I be on them like a message from god | |
| Knowledge of self while fake mc's play hard | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Outro (2X): | |
| Fake mc's they always act hard | |
| I'm not a sucker so I don't need a bodyguard |
| zuo ci : Elam, Guru, Martin | |
| MC' s be fakin' so now they get taken | |
| Chorus: | |
| Fake MC' s, they always act hard | |
| But won' t walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| I hate fake MC' s, they always act hard | |
| But won' t walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| Verse One: | |
| MC' s I lay out like stiffs in the morgue | |
| Praise the lord you' re in awe when I' m gripping my mic cord | |
| Rhymes I rip with swift execution | |
| One verse could coerce your girl to prostitution | |
| The Guru is now the brother that you fear and | |
| beware when I' m making hits with Premier and | |
| Rolling to a spot near you, lyrics tear through | |
| Chrome to your dome you better watch your rear view | |
| Niggas been held back too long we' re coming up | |
| In the streets we roll alone so watch me running up | |
| I' m summing up a mad posse of warriors | |
| Night crusaders able to break down barriers | |
| and bringing faces of death putting MC' s to rest | |
| until there' s no fake chumps left | |
| Run. Step. Yeah, bounce nigga, bounce | |
| My rhyme' s a cargo when yours is just a quarter ounce | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Gangstarr boy and that' s beyond your comprehension | |
| Mad brothers in every city you can feel the tension | |
| To stop the killing wack mc' s must die | |
| Who am I? I' m the substance that' ll make your third eye cry | |
| Too potent, too high in intelligence quotient | |
| when I unleash my speech I' ll have you punk rappers open | |
| I won' t expose your names and your identities | |
| You know you' re phoney get the from in front of me | |
| Hardcore fans are fed up from your folklore | |
| Lines strip you raw and infect you like cold sores | |
| and I hope you' re not the one that I' m after | |
| Since the days of Adidas I' ve been a true master | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Three: | |
| I' ve been around, punk. But yo, I still feel young | |
| A few of my crew members like to pack guns | |
| I' m high strung but don' t mistake me when I smile | |
| I murder an entire rap chart with my freestyle | |
| After the killing just like Casper I' m ghost | |
| Fakes thought I was friendly, at their wakes I was host | |
| Toast without a gun you' d be done | |
| Throw up your hands bitch and now you know you stand to lose one | |
| Choose one metaphor and then choose another | |
| Wax that ass like a bully have you calling your big brother | |
| Although I' m five foot eight they call me sergeant | |
| Got more hoes in my dick than you can fit in the garden | |
| At Madison Square I shot a fair one | |
| So many niggaz knew me that the kid wouldn' t dare run | |
| MC' s pay cash to ensure their safety | |
| They know they can' t take me the GANG, you crazy? | |
| I be on them like a message from god | |
| Knowledge of self while fake mc' s play hard | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Outro 2X: | |
| Fake mc' s they always act hard | |
| I' m not a sucker so I don' t need a bodyguard |
| zuò cí : Elam, Guru, Martin | |
| MC' s be fakin' so now they get taken | |
| Chorus: | |
| Fake MC' s, they always act hard | |
| But won' t walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| I hate fake MC' s, they always act hard | |
| But won' t walk the street without their bodyguard | |
| Verse One: | |
| MC' s I lay out like stiffs in the morgue | |
| Praise the lord you' re in awe when I' m gripping my mic cord | |
| Rhymes I rip with swift execution | |
| One verse could coerce your girl to prostitution | |
| The Guru is now the brother that you fear and | |
| beware when I' m making hits with Premier and | |
| Rolling to a spot near you, lyrics tear through | |
| Chrome to your dome you better watch your rear view | |
| Niggas been held back too long we' re coming up | |
| In the streets we roll alone so watch me running up | |
| I' m summing up a mad posse of warriors | |
| Night crusaders able to break down barriers | |
| and bringing faces of death putting MC' s to rest | |
| until there' s no fake chumps left | |
| Run. Step. Yeah, bounce nigga, bounce | |
| My rhyme' s a cargo when yours is just a quarter ounce | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Gangstarr boy and that' s beyond your comprehension | |
| Mad brothers in every city you can feel the tension | |
| To stop the killing wack mc' s must die | |
| Who am I? I' m the substance that' ll make your third eye cry | |
| Too potent, too high in intelligence quotient | |
| when I unleash my speech I' ll have you punk rappers open | |
| I won' t expose your names and your identities | |
| You know you' re phoney get the from in front of me | |
| Hardcore fans are fed up from your folklore | |
| Lines strip you raw and infect you like cold sores | |
| and I hope you' re not the one that I' m after | |
| Since the days of Adidas I' ve been a true master | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Verse Three: | |
| I' ve been around, punk. But yo, I still feel young | |
| A few of my crew members like to pack guns | |
| I' m high strung but don' t mistake me when I smile | |
| I murder an entire rap chart with my freestyle | |
| After the killing just like Casper I' m ghost | |
| Fakes thought I was friendly, at their wakes I was host | |
| Toast without a gun you' d be done | |
| Throw up your hands bitch and now you know you stand to lose one | |
| Choose one metaphor and then choose another | |
| Wax that ass like a bully have you calling your big brother | |
| Although I' m five foot eight they call me sergeant | |
| Got more hoes in my dick than you can fit in the garden | |
| At Madison Square I shot a fair one | |
| So many niggaz knew me that the kid wouldn' t dare run | |
| MC' s pay cash to ensure their safety | |
| They know they can' t take me the GANG, you crazy? | |
| I be on them like a message from god | |
| Knowledge of self while fake mc' s play hard | |
| Chorus 4X | |
| Outro 2X: | |
| Fake mc' s they always act hard | |
| I' m not a sucker so I don' t need a bodyguard |
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