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boot camp clik - had it up 2 here (feat. illa noyz) lyrics

it’s going down baby!
bucktown, duckdown baby (whispering)
my b.c.c., cocoa b’z, top dog (sean price)
starang where you at? b.d.i. eye we got to this
people, don (louieville)
n-ggas had it up 2 here (louieville)
a n-gga had it up to here (louieville)
i’m tired of fallen’ (louieville)
slugs fallen’ all day (steele)
feelin’ this, feelin’ this (steele)

(steele)
i’m in the ride right
getting high right
when some guy comes wit some papers for me to sign right
aight money started acting fly
like i ain’t sh-t he the one that should be in the lime light
saying he rhyme tight
coming all out his face
saying that he’s better than any rapper that out right
i’m like look i care if you were dumb like
your demo was reviewed in the source and they gave you 9 mics
i can care less who look like
or who you rhyme like
let me show what a real mc sounds like

(buckshot)
i pulled up to the red light
somebody was parked on my right
i heard them like k
ain’t you that little n-gga from bucktown or ducktown or whatever?
what’s up with you now n-gga
as a matter of fact i got some rough sh-t and going love it
make you a million boy if you f-ck with
trust me dog my flow is grimy
soon as spit you dog you’ll be the first to sign me
listen your flow is aight though
really wasn’t tight though
you’re kind of loose with aight bite flows
got me like whoa!
let me keep it moving or my shottie might blow
spittin’ but you bullsh-t me yo
i can’t hear your ill sub-libs
you ain’t gotta feel boot camp to fill some tims
but you will respect the 4th star
or i’m spit 4 at your sports car
when you spit bar listen par
you better respect or i’m a have the check
let the loan half of the check got yet hummm
who was it cuz only stopped i cause i thought knew who it was
now move up

(tek)
i had it up to here with y’all weak -ss rappers
dj’s ceos i want y’all to know
i had it up to here with y’all hundred grand producers
fake -ss thugs, dress codes in clubs
i had it up to here with y’all p.d.r’s
racist cops cheeba holders don’t me start
i had it up to here with y’all wannabe stars
trying to be who you ain’t just be who you are, man

who you think your talking be
get your head bust to the white meat, questioning me
won’t play cause i won’t pay what you think i’m a b-tch
never tell who shot you what think i’m a snitch
but i will the order for them to smack you up
clap you up, yo money lone we sn-tch you up
think you hide where, i got family over there and they all think like me
we had it up to here

(starang wondah)
ayo, i was a broke working n-gga
this rap got me money
i had b-tches; my good looks kept the honies
but in the game n-ggas with real money
they steal from me, when you mention my name
i changed the real money
in the game after a few years
i’m still hungry, put the band back together
its bout get real ugly yo
i crush plenty guys, i had plenty wives
i’m on old school tapes i’m only twenty-five
n-ggas would doubt me, b-tches talk about me
they both wouldn’t be sh-t without me
starang one

(top dog)
yes, yes y’all
y’all know n-ggas ready to brawl y’all
hit the floor y’all
the 4-pound leaving all y’all wasted
the gun powder can you taste it
the big khahuna ready to ride up in your place, b-tch
can you feel me?
these b-tch n-ggas trying to k!ll
no what they do to me, to try to fool me see
d.o. stay sharp and on top of my game
spittin’ my flames, so don’t throw dirt on my name
i’m trying to hold lot of thing and make a whole lot of cream
all the plots and the schemes got me doing wicked things

(sean price)
shoot your moms, stab your pops, rape your daughter
get the moment on the tape recorder
give copies out to every n-gga up in the hood
let them know i’m not the n-gga to f-ck with up in the hood
give me some weed, give some c0ke, give me some dope
give your seed; give me your throat, give me some rope
choking your b-tch provoking your cl!ck
to get guns, smoking a spliff
you’re throwing a fit, now that’s fun
backpack n-ggas acting all funny and sh-t
till i them that sh-t is wack they’re no money in this

and you female rappers i’m end your careers
rap my hands around your throat while you get banged from the rear
i’m the type of n-gga that will throw a sh-ll in your arm
you the type to snitch, b-tch
why you telling my moms listen
y’all b-tch n-ggas are bout as wack as come
don’t make me clap you in the back of the -ss when i’m done

(illa noyz)
we pack 10 billion, 987 million, 654 thousand
321 hundred fans in housing know how we get down and
what this sh-t about the boot camp sounding it’s astounding
but i’m tried of it, questioning y’all budget
i wanna snuff but i look him and be like ahh f-ck it
but now i ride wit it when i blow i slide wit it
all i know i’m boot camp and are n-ggas

now a days i had it up to here (louieville)

- boot camp clik lyrics

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