| Song | Thugged Out Shit |
| Artist | DJ Clue? |
| Album | The Professional |
| 作词 : Cox, Ifill, Shaw | |
| Geah, what? | |
| Niggas bleek, duro | |
| We live | |
| Thugged out | |
| Marcy, smoked out | |
| Yeah | |
| Uh, yo, yo | |
| Im on now | |
| Therfore your ready rock | |
| Compare to this fishtale baggin rocks | |
| Now give me bill gates money | |
| A little strait money | |
| Big or small faces its been in all places | |
| I was schooled by them older guys | |
| They showed me how to drive these ??? | |
| Chop dueces and old rubers | |
| Have a nigga rocked up then knocked up | |
| Plenty y'all wit his chest out gettin stocked up | |
| We trade war stories back on the streets | |
| When we played em messhall | |
| Niggas get'em on his eats | |
| Im a foul little nigga, wild little nigga | |
| Dedicated to these streets a pump valve little nigga | |
| You hear about my wherabouts? | |
| Bitches i don't care about | |
| Money im a man about | |
| Drama im a air it out | |
| Niggas hate bleek cause i live right | |
| You'd love to see me broke frontin | |
| Wit no chips right? | |
| Chorus: 2x | |
| Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit?(what) | |
| Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit?(geah) | |
| Who want to hear some real live type shit?(huh) | |
| Who want it wit that oh, chest out shit?(what) | |
| But this bleek life my young niggas i tell ya | |
| I went from a failure, holdin paraphanalia | |
| Weight scales, twelve-twelves, dimes and fishtales | |
| Cooked up and bagged up | |
| My life was fucked up, but i looked at it this way | |
| If i dont make it this way, then im a do it this way | |
| Blaze my heat, while im after them nickels | |
| Fuck six i chase nine fucken zeros | |
| Digits i got four of them, want five more of them | |
| Bitches when i told'em flies bring more of them | |
| I fuck'em never call'em,my dough must have spoiled em | |
| Nigga blew roll wit'em but now im ignoring them | |
| This street life kept bleek tight with heat right | |
| On the ten-speed herbed up, nigga word up | |
| You saw me, but if not your man did | |
| I know i pull gats on y'all for crack shit | |
| Yeah uh-huh | |
| Chorus:2x | |
| My niggaz roll dice in the back park | |
| We sip bacardi darked wit sprite all night | |
| Till the sky get bruised or thug nigga lose | |
| Pull out two-two's only catch two, hundred | |
| Half the crowd skated ?when? which you wanted | |
| This nigga got shaky and panic when you fronted | |
| When he saw the black kron | |
| I thought the nigga wore a thong | |
| The way he froze his arm | |
| Dukes said its on | |
| He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw | |
| Took off half ass when the nigga spit more | |
| And we all spit game you niggas ?heard free? game | |
| By soft motherfuckers, you lame mothefuckers | |
| I fall, i get back | |
| To test my worth | |
| I tell heads to hit that, its raw get rid of that | |
| My worker take thirty off a bundle | |
| Dodging the bikers, and'em d's | |
| When they rush the jungle | |
| So we stash in the fences | |
| Sit low on the benches | |
| Keep a small gun in case its on in the trenches | |
| Yo | |
| Chorus:2x | |
| We live | |
| For the thugged niggas, marcy | |
| What? we out |
| zuò cí : Cox, Ifill, Shaw | |
| Geah, what? | |
| Niggas bleek, duro | |
| We live | |
| Thugged out | |
| Marcy, smoked out | |
| Yeah | |
| Uh, yo, yo | |
| Im on now | |
| Therfore your ready rock | |
| Compare to this fishtale baggin rocks | |
| Now give me bill gates money | |
| A little strait money | |
| Big or small faces its been in all places | |
| I was schooled by them older guys | |
| They showed me how to drive these ??? | |
| Chop dueces and old rubers | |
| Have a nigga rocked up then knocked up | |
| Plenty y' all wit his chest out gettin stocked up | |
| We trade war stories back on the streets | |
| When we played em messhall | |
| Niggas get' em on his eats | |
| Im a foul little nigga, wild little nigga | |
| Dedicated to these streets a pump valve little nigga | |
| You hear about my wherabouts? | |
| Bitches i don' t care about | |
| Money im a man about | |
| Drama im a air it out | |
| Niggas hate bleek cause i live right | |
| You' d love to see me broke frontin | |
| Wit no chips right? | |
| Chorus: 2x | |
| Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? what | |
| Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? geah | |
| Who want to hear some real live type shit? huh | |
| Who want it wit that oh, chest out shit? what | |
| But this bleek life my young niggas i tell ya | |
| I went from a failure, holdin paraphanalia | |
| Weight scales, twelvetwelves, dimes and fishtales | |
| Cooked up and bagged up | |
| My life was fucked up, but i looked at it this way | |
| If i dont make it this way, then im a do it this way | |
| Blaze my heat, while im after them nickels | |
| Fuck six i chase nine fucken zeros | |
| Digits i got four of them, want five more of them | |
| Bitches when i told' em flies bring more of them | |
| I fuck' em never call' em, my dough must have spoiled em | |
| Nigga blew roll wit' em but now im ignoring them | |
| This street life kept bleek tight with heat right | |
| On the tenspeed herbed up, nigga word up | |
| You saw me, but if not your man did | |
| I know i pull gats on y' all for crack shit | |
| Yeah uhhuh | |
| Chorus: 2x | |
| My niggaz roll dice in the back park | |
| We sip bacardi darked wit sprite all night | |
| Till the sky get bruised or thug nigga lose | |
| Pull out twotwo' s only catch two, hundred | |
| Half the crowd skated ? when? which you wanted | |
| This nigga got shaky and panic when you fronted | |
| When he saw the black kron | |
| I thought the nigga wore a thong | |
| The way he froze his arm | |
| Dukes said its on | |
| He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw | |
| Took off half ass when the nigga spit more | |
| And we all spit game you niggas ? heard free? game | |
| By soft motherfuckers, you lame mothefuckers | |
| I fall, i get back | |
| To test my worth | |
| I tell heads to hit that, its raw get rid of that | |
| My worker take thirty off a bundle | |
| Dodging the bikers, and' em d' s | |
| When they rush the jungle | |
| So we stash in the fences | |
| Sit low on the benches | |
| Keep a small gun in case its on in the trenches | |
| Yo | |
| Chorus: 2x | |
| We live | |
| For the thugged niggas, marcy | |
| What? we out |