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bo$ - livin’ loc’d lyrics

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[sticky fingaz]
yo man, f-ck that man!
n-ggas be on some real bullsh-t
yo i’ll bust that n-gga, get the f-ck outta here
(yo yo yo yo what the f-ck is up?)
yo what the f-ck is up b-tch?! where the f-ck you been at me?
yo man word is bond n-ggas in here be frontin
n-ggas can’t get off that ol’ bullsh-t (beeeeitch)
word up man, f-ck that! knahmsayin?
yo i’m muh’f-ckin sticky, f-ckin, fingaz, knahmsayin?
f-ck that! and this motherf-ckin b-tch bo$$; and word is bond
i want you to tell these motherf-ckers how we livin bo$$
tell ’em!!

[bo$$]
broke as a god d-mn joke
up in detroit and once again i’m just a few.. short
couple of hundred bucks so f-ck the rent
my share of that sh-t got spent on some newports
so yankin, many motherf-ckers is my new.. sport
i’m ready to blast and k!ll for a rap deal
f-ck the landlord and the gas bill, we don’t give a f-ck
we thinkin sh-t of livin shabby
waited until my cash got right then took a flight to cali
off into the night, me and dee up into mo’ h-ll
got into some sh-t befo’ we even reached the hotel (god d-mn!)
f-ck the dumb sh-t, gotta get rich at the same time
cause n-ggas steady throwin up they gang sign
no loot, no more palm trees, no more calm breeze
but it’s cool deez b-tches bout to slang ki’s
so on my hip goes a pager, (?) major
it’s two bad behavior b-tches that got gangsta flavor
see a punk k!ll a punk and then we (?) quick
out to get paid, motherf-ck this strugglin sh-t
bullsh-t’s nothin to a b-tch with no emotions
(tell ’em how the f-ck you livin) i’m livin like loc’n

[chorus: sticky fingaz]
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (yo how the f-ck we livin?)
livin loc’d (b-tch n-ggaz get smoked) (f-ck dat!)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (we livin.. uh-huh)
livin loc’d .. mother-f-ckers!
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (f-ck! we livin)
livin loc’d (b-tch n-ggaz get smoked) (uh-huh!)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d
yeah and all the b-tch–ss n-ggas can suck my d-ck!

[bo$$]
buck buck! then i let the trigger loose
motherf-ckers better duck, but it ain’t no god d-mn duck duck goose
haven’t you heard of this murderous b-tch, crawlin slow
and puttin lead to the, head of my foes on the down low
cause all we got we f-ckin tooken it
got a double-bunk and now we roll, f-ck footin it
cruisin down the ‘shaw, smokin joints, cause we blaze weed
down to (?) spot, cluckers kickin in their daisies ‘n sh-t
cause n-ggas’ll never drop the dirt, do we’re layin n-ggas on they back
then actin like we never even f-ckin knew ya
unload the clip off in your chest, take a deep breath
god d-mn! what a motherf-ckin bl–dy mess
sleepin on benches, turned us into roguest b-tches
we jumpin fences from the feds through puddles and ditches
goin out, don’t give a f-ck if i get smoked
yo (shh..) at least i’m goin out loc’d

[chorus: sticky fingaz]
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (how we livin?)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (word up!)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (yo, how we livin?)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (f-ck that!)
livin loc’d, livin livin loc’d (we livin)
livin loc’d (b-tch n-ggaz get smoked)

[bo$$]
livin loc’d.. and for any b-tch beefin then the bo$$’ll have to put a
-ss full of my foot for f-ckin with the butchers
f-ck next, steppin with gauge upon my hip, weapon
nine double m’s for the one-eighty-seven
cause i’m nothin but a mag totin b-tch, smokin fifty bags
rollin n-ggas up like the motherf-ckin zig zag!
understand this b-tch never (?) mine
or catch two into your chest with the tec-9
cause ever since the days, of way back
it never played to let the get go, rat-a-tat-tat-tat
i fill gats so how the f-ck you figure n-gga
put you in k!ll range ’til you feel pain from the trigga n-gga
when gangsta b-tches just can’t cope
n-ggas are getttin smoked nine-trey and forever, livin life loc’d

[sticky fingaz]
it’s the motherf-ckin bo$$!



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