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disturbing tha peace – we got lyrics

i-20
yeah, i’m on tha block that pistol-play a cold blooded killa/ n-ggas recognize my name/ i-dub, tha young dealer/ you better tell ya’ man that wit’ tha guages i’m nice/ i’ll shoot up ya’ll white shirts until ya’ll look like dice/ but i’m through wit’all tha talkin’ time to show all you n-ggas/ i-2-0/ i’m like j-lo/ goin’ through n-ggas/ dtp, we ain’t playin’ if you try to get our pay & ak’s get 2 sprayin’ like………../ bottom line that mean i’m bout it/ any n-gga want it, doubt it/ bust you in tha broad day/ on a street that’s fully crowded/ find a whole inside ya chest/ just 4 thinkin’ it’s rap/ and tell that pretty b-tch thug we got some pretty big gats/ shawka say i’m shot out/ & i tend 2 agree/ so you should watch what you sayin’ if it’s intended 4 me/ so be careful what you startin’ let my fingers do tha walkin’/ & that uzi get 2 talkin’ like!……………..

t-ti boi
hammers, jam ’em, sn-tch ’em, grab ’em, can tha anna'(animosity), f-ck ’em, d-mn ’em, press ’em, man ’em, scan ’em, tan ’em, heat ’em up/ bake ’em, take ’em, beat ’em up/ i hate a hater, i eat ’em up/ a,b,c,d,e,f/ shawty is you a g or what?/ now it’s just me & my nuts that’s all i got in this world/ i’m pullin’ pistols out my stomach & throwin’ them b-tches up like “earls”/ servin’ tha club head shots/ scattered, covered, run, scramble i’m thirty-eight, hot wit’ a pearl handle……………./ and i’m throwin’ techs/ like a nba ref/ i got all gold guns like they came from iraq/ artillery/ could it be/ i got all kinds of these pistols/ i point my gun at ya’ homeboy make ya’ own folks h-tcha/ & ain’t takin’ no more pictures if you snap i’m a click any way/ plus i got bullets in tha clip tha size of lil’ fate/ & i’m wavin’ choppers like helicopters/ you gon’ need h-lla doctors when the glock go!…………………

chingy
uh, stay on tha set b-tch!/ better watch yo’ lip that tech spit quick/ 20 over thur, t-ti over thur, luda over thur/ ain’t no exit trick/ us you don’t mess wit’/ we got them guns like action flicks/ reload wit’ tha next clip/ i’m tha wrong n-gga 2 flex wit’ b-tch/ come on & test this/ my gun i’m havin’ s-x wit’, sh-t/ put a bullet in, shoot it out, got them long h-rns like texas b-tch/ look at my necklace/ make me hit a n-gga, disrespect this clique/ my pistol grip sounds like this………../
now what?/ who want they day f-cked?/ when i c-ck unload that “k” bust but/ ya’ll cowards play tough/ & my peeps we come 2 spray stuff up/ ya’ll lives made up/ like ugly hoes wit’ make-up bruh/ we ‘a shoot you up then toss yo’ -ss in a lake tough nut/ my wrist rocky like sylvester stallone, so thur4 you should invest in a vest 4 ya’ dome/ cause i know you marks plannin’ on gettin’ me when i’m landin’/ peace 2 nick/ but my cannon go!………………

ludacris
f-ck a medic we gon’ call yo’ -ss a taxi cab/ bleedin’ so hard you’ll need a life size maxi pad/ so flip tha script & tell yo’ woman it’s yo’ time of tha month/ ak47 for tha n-ggas that’s really lookin’ 4 heaven & a nine 4 you chumps/ got killas on my squad and i’m tha nicest 1 in my group/ but i got bananas 4 you n-ggas and i ain’t talkin’ bout fruit/ i’ll peel ya cap back/ wit’ tha black mac/ ’til ya back crack/ c-ck tha gat back like……………..clack! clack! clack!/ swallow a hollow/ make ’em digest wit’ tha 50 caliber/ your future’s not lookin’ so good/ tomorrow’s not on your calendar, i/ do away wit’ tha amateurs they breathin’ too long/ i leave ’em coughin’ like tha sound effect you hear in this song/ my shotguns are cold and hard but my desert is easy/ & my triggers are always talkin’ about some, “squeeze me, squeeze me”/ & 4 these fakers talkin’ greasy i’m startin’ tha show/ my uzi got a drum roll it goes!…………………./ uh, yeah!

- disturbing tha peace lyrics

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