pop da brown hornet – no more mr. nice guy lyrics
[intro]
aiyo, got ya m-th-f-cka seein stars
(brown h-rnet, pop)
blastin m-th-f-ckas out the m-th-f-ckin box
(out the box)
[pop da brown h-rnet]
shake rattle & roll, ratters than ya peasants ya peasants
form a line, while i’m handin out presents
stiff jabs or stiff kicks, for a n-gg-
big back with stiff d-ck, for my b-tches
burn like a cancer stick, free loaded spit
them cops that killed diallo, they can suck my d-ck
41 shots, enough lead to take a city exam
or ain’t that one man with the nypd
who need the ku klux klan
i ain’t runnin or hiddin, like 2pac i’m riddin and dyin
new york, new york, it’s where brothers are sport
make it to the playoffs, don’t get happy get ya head blown off
we got d-ck for nuts, puttin fingers on red b-ttons
ready to launch, tellin us, turnin ya arms
h-ll no baby, ya devils must be crazy
out of ya mind, i’m holdin on to my nine
[chorus: smoke (pop da brown h-rnet)]
no more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)
no more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)
no more mr. nice guy (no more mr. nice guy)
no more mr. mr. mr. mr. mr. mr.
[pop da brown h-rnet]
you hold every sentimental
as for me, i lost my feelings somewhere inside the temple
where they got throat cutters and back stabbers
a life is lost right in front of your eyes, nothing really matters
you just go on living, projects is like prison
we got f-gs and dikes, razor blades and knives
h-m- thugs, and all type of drugs
addicts, snitches, b-tches, holdin ya pictures
with nothin on but a thong
f-ck me, leave at night, for a trailer visit, f-ck you in the morn
bad boys, we killin toys, they m-ffle and noise
never lose they boys, they just keep on squeezin
bodies drop for no reason, kill you for breathin
rumble till we even, or till one of us die
eye for an eye, yo it’s no more mr. nice guy
heads gotta fly, we ’em up, let ’em hang dry
choke ’em till they p-ss out, wake up in ya briefs
playin for keeps, yo f-ck you and your peeps
never had it good, my last alb-m went wood
bought my words when you hear this, i’m movin out the hood
takin no prisoners, no eye witnesses, if ya sensitive
back up, you want no part of this
ghetto b-st-rd, who never got his -ss kicked
i just stay kickin -ss, got the mic and the smash
step up, feel the blast from the brown bomber
you don’t really want drama, quick to start sh-t
but then go runnin to ya mama “dial 911
brown h-rnet on the new cent, he f-ckin with my son”
b-tch tell that piece of sh-t to finish what he started
with this cold hearted, half r-t-rded, hip hop artist
weak rapper, told ya lame -ss not to cry
but you gotta fry f-ckin wit no more mr. nice guy
[chorus]
[outro]
ai-yo, ai-yo, ai-yo, this smoke right here
the new millennium, ain’t no more mr. nice guy
that’s right, that’s right
when you see us in the club, there’s no more mr. nice guy
when you see us in the streets, no more mr. nice guy
that’s right, baby pop, brown h-rnet baby
smoke records, rns productions, ain’t no more mr. nice guy
we’re not playin, it’s not a game
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