| Song | Big Scrilla |
| Artist | Killa Tay |
| Album | Snake Eyes |
| 作词 : Killa Tay | |
| Uh huh, Yeah | |
| We gone call this one big scrilla | |
| For all my niggas out there thug pimpin | |
| D-1A up in this muthafucka, ya' know | |
| For yall sucka ass niggas, uh | |
| Hollerin all the cheap shit, but you aint rappin right nigga | |
| Gimmie the mic, feel me like you appetite nigga | |
| Supposed to be hard, but y'all ain't actin like niggas | |
| Probably go both ways like a hermaphrodite nigga | |
| Bitch mades cant get no love | |
| I hit the highway like O.J, with blood on my gloves | |
| I roll like young buck, homies wanna hang with me | |
| But I'm a killa on the grind livin dangerously | |
| I'm thug pimpin, from ?? to Australia | |
| Never been a failure better believe it when I tell ya | |
| Sell you nothin but the A-1 yeh | |
| The innovator, pistol players manditory one shot | |
| To end the story the glory days is over | |
| If you dont work, you dont eat | |
| All that talkin is cheap mayne, this hustle game is deep | |
| Back from the ??, west cola till they burry me | |
| With a bullet in my casket | |
| To lift my soul and keep them scared of me | |
| Work, like chemotherapy, when i let loose with the ?? | |
| So relentless, we sneakin, and creepin and keepin it off the hinges | |
| Bullys wit Fullys pullin strings like Jimi Hendrix | |
| Fuck a trick biotchh, when it comes to my click, my love is illest, IIIII -stick em like syringes, hard, heavy and devy | |
| I do whatever it take in life to make continous fetti | |
| Ready and willing killin them all off like nazi's | |
| No time for the he say she say we stay sloppy of that broccolli, | |
| We mob deep | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Ride for my niggas | |
| Stay on the grind down to die for my niggas | |
| We real killas, big scrilla | |
| Blazin up doja zips | |
| Nigga, one false move and its over with, we blast | |
| And mash hard, livin large like a rock star lookin out for cop cars | |
| Mob life is, money over bitch, fuck a snitch, we the niggas hittin licks, | |
| Flippin bricks gettin rich off tricks | |
| [Killa Tay] | |
| I put it down for my homies, Fresno to Toronto | |
| Imagine if im livin in dead, head hauncho | |
| All up on your shit, westside represent, | |
| Money and dope fuck a bitch, im a balla and a pimp | |
| Nigga we real ridas, aint no studio killas | |
| Leavin them hurt, doin the dirt, puttin in work for the scrilla | |
| We mofioso, fuck the po-po, federali's and task | |
| Got fifth cap, when i ride around and the funk down we blast | |
| Skid off in they ass like gas, and get my strike on | |
| Hit the back route to my ?? cause im sleepin with my nikes on | |
| I'm seein facin hearin voices at my window | |
| Maybe these niggas is comin for me or maybe its the indo | |
| Sometimes I feel like I'm the that's doin ?? | |
| Cause I'm shady to my own lady, smokin up all my dank | |
| Down to blow, been funkin wrong lately | |
| I'm under pressure, with a tazer under my pillow | |
| And a glock on top of my dresser | |
| My bitch say I'm paranoid, and my momma think I'm special | |
| But fuck them, I cant trust nobody but Dan Wessern | |
| Its a, cold game, they only know me by my code name | |
| Agent 187, smobbin ?? sprayin cocaine | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Killa Tay] | |
| Damging bodies is a hobby they try to stop me but i mash hard | |
| Livin on the run like a track star so why act hard | |
| You know we packin when its time for some action | |
| These niggas never see me like revy jackson | |
| We be taxin they ass like IRS, I bring death | |
| They call me the grim reaper, creepin and sneakin em with the left | |
| Till they tone death my tank on F, I smash out | |
| I ain't no punk smokin dope blunts till I pass out | |
| I'm a rida, I love my momma mayne I'm puttin in work | |
| And doin dirt, skeet skirt, off the block, fuck the cops | |
| I'm the bully on the block, with fully on the spot | |
| When you see us ain't no love, we some thugs on the spot | |
| Watch, these papers gone turn | |
| Before the burn my im like a crooked attorney | |
| My money dirty like a football jersey at halftime | |
| Cause a nigga on a savage ass rhyme poppin my 9 for my past time | |
| But now I make mine the honest way | |
| Cant let em fuck me like they did my folks ?? | |
| My momma say im in too deep, but i cant change | |
| And it seem like my baby boy gone grow up doin the same thang | |
| Gotta gang bang, gotta make change | |
| Caught up in this thug shit, busta catch a slug quick | |
| It ain't no love trick | |
| I got hoes, from the crest side to the east side O' | |
| We get a sack and hit the track and ride slow thug livin nigga | |
| [Chorus till end] | |
| I ride for my niggas |
| zuò cí : Killa Tay | |
| Uh huh, Yeah | |
| We gone call this one big scrilla | |
| For all my niggas out there thug pimpin | |
| D1A up in this muthafucka, ya' know | |
| For yall sucka ass niggas, uh | |
| Hollerin all the cheap shit, but you aint rappin right nigga | |
| Gimmie the mic, feel me like you appetite nigga | |
| Supposed to be hard, but y' all ain' t actin like niggas | |
| Probably go both ways like a hermaphrodite nigga | |
| Bitch mades cant get no love | |
| I hit the highway like O. J, with blood on my gloves | |
| I roll like young buck, homies wanna hang with me | |
| But I' m a killa on the grind livin dangerously | |
| I' m thug pimpin, from nbsp?? to Australia | |
| Never been a failure better believe it when I tell ya | |
| Sell you nothin but the A1 yeh | |
| The innovator, pistol players manditory one shot | |
| To end the story the glory days is over | |
| If you dont work, you dont eat | |
| All that talkin is cheap mayne, this hustle game is deep | |
| Back from the nbsp??, west cola till they burry me | |
| With a bullet in my casket | |
| To lift my soul and keep them scared of me | |
| Work, like chemotherapy, when i let loose with the nbsp?? | |
| So relentless, we sneakin, and creepin and keepin it off the hinges | |
| Bullys wit Fullys pullin strings like Jimi Hendrix | |
| Fuck a trick biotchh, when it comes to my click, my love is illest, IIIII stick em like syringes, hard, heavy and devy | |
| I do whatever it take in life to make continous fetti | |
| Ready and willing killin them all off like nazi' s | |
| No time for the he say she say we stay sloppy of that broccolli, | |
| We mob deep | |
| Chorus | |
| Ride for my niggas | |
| Stay on the grind down to die for my niggas | |
| We real killas, big scrilla | |
| Blazin up doja zips | |
| Nigga, one false move and its over with, we blast | |
| And mash hard, livin large like a rock star lookin out for cop cars | |
| Mob life is, money over bitch, fuck a snitch, we the niggas hittin licks, | |
| Flippin bricks gettin rich off tricks | |
| Killa Tay | |
| I put it down for my homies, Fresno to Toronto | |
| Imagine if im livin in dead, head hauncho | |
| All up on your shit, westside represent, | |
| Money and dope fuck a bitch, im a balla and a pimp | |
| Nigga we real ridas, aint no studio killas | |
| Leavin them hurt, doin the dirt, puttin in work for the scrilla | |
| We mofioso, fuck the popo, federali' s and task | |
| Got fifth cap, when i ride around and the funk down we blast | |
| Skid off in they ass like gas, and get my strike on | |
| Hit the back route to my nbsp?? cause im sleepin with my nikes on | |
| I' m seein facin hearin voices at my window | |
| Maybe these niggas is comin for me or maybe its the indo | |
| Sometimes I feel like I' m the that' s doin nbsp?? | |
| Cause I' m shady to my own lady, smokin up all my dank | |
| Down to blow, been funkin wrong lately | |
| I' m under pressure, with a tazer under my pillow | |
| And a glock on top of my dresser | |
| My bitch say I' m paranoid, and my momma think I' m special | |
| But fuck them, I cant trust nobody but Dan Wessern | |
| Its a, cold game, they only know me by my code name | |
| Agent 187, smobbin nbsp?? sprayin cocaine | |
| Chorus | |
| Killa Tay | |
| Damging bodies is a hobby they try to stop me but i mash hard | |
| Livin on the run like a track star so why act hard | |
| You know we packin when its time for some action | |
| These niggas never see me like revy jackson | |
| We be taxin they ass like IRS, I bring death | |
| They call me the grim reaper, creepin and sneakin em with the left | |
| Till they tone death my tank on F, I smash out | |
| I ain' t no punk smokin dope blunts till I pass out | |
| I' m a rida, I love my momma mayne I' m puttin in work | |
| And doin dirt, skeet skirt, off the block, fuck the cops | |
| I' m the bully on the block, with fully on the spot | |
| When you see us ain' t no love, we some thugs on the spot | |
| Watch, these papers gone turn | |
| Before the burn my im like a crooked attorney | |
| My money dirty like a football jersey at halftime | |
| Cause a nigga on a savage ass rhyme poppin my 9 for my past time | |
| But now I make mine the honest way | |
| Cant let em fuck me like they did my folks nbsp?? | |
| My momma say im in too deep, but i cant change | |
| And it seem like my baby boy gone grow up doin the same thang | |
| Gotta gang bang, gotta make change | |
| Caught up in this thug shit, busta catch a slug quick | |
| It ain' t no love trick | |
| I got hoes, from the crest side to the east side O' | |
| We get a sack and hit the track and ride slow thug livin nigga | |
| Chorus till end | |
| I ride for my niggas |