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ludacris – bad boyz lyrics

[shyne]
now tell me who want to f-ck with us?
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
i bang – and let your f-ckin brains hang, snitches
f-ck all them able b-tches with riches
who carry 22’s, up in they hosiery
a black teller when my father bust and unloaded me
think he just finished sniffin a ki, and dippin the d’s
don’t hate me, hate nicky barnes for hittin my moms
letting the condom pop, n-gg- i was born in the drop
c-ke boil in the pot, shake the feds
and bust shots at them street cops
f-ck yo’ point is? my point is double fours at your f-ckin jaws
pointed, hollow point sh-t
four-point-six, need i say more?
or do you get the point b-tch? c’mon

what type of n-gg- slang and bang in the streets? (bad boyz)
what type of n-gg- stay in the trump for weeks? (bad boyz)
what type of n-gg- fly bentley coupes? (bad boyz)
aim for the sky, cop the sh-t then shoot ..

[shyne]
minks draggin on the floor – bangin on your wh-r-
suckin the croissant just examine it for flaws
pour the cristal on the way to trial, rico law
got a n-gg- head hurtin squirtin til they pull the curtain
let the money drip dry, hundred dollar bills
wipe the tears from my eyes, no love
f-ck y’all n-gg-z, hope you die a slow death
as i c-ke-test and see the lawyers talk of protest
can’t f-ck with you weak rap n-gg-z, witcha gay raps
runnin ’round talkin this and talkin that
see me in the streets, tried to give me dap
andrew cunanan -ss n-gg-z
my two cannons blast n-gg-z, -ss n-gg-z
got me f-cked up in the game, get your shirt stained
keep your five mics n-gg-, give me the ‘caine
do the sh-t to clean my money dummies, gleamed the wrist out
cop the pist-al, n-gg-, talk sh-t now, uh

[shyne]
bling bling, it’s a bad boy thing
bullets heat-seekin, streep sweepin, with an evil grin
watch you die, one love, one life, one shyne
y’all n-gg-z ain’t sayin nothin, like a mime
every line, i live it, i write it with a pencil so n-gg-z die
of lead poison if they bite it, hate it but recite it
it’s a g thang, me and puff in st. bart’s set it off
b-tches walkin topless with g-strings, menage’
bust shots at your crew, another charge
as the gulf stream fly through the fog
make ya popular
pockets filled with more high notes than the opera
franklins on top of the – jacksons
my n-gg- ty leave you tired
bad boy, repsect it or die, coward

[barrington levy chatting patois to fade]

- ludacris lyrics

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