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lone star ridaz - all my nggz lyrics

[chorus]
[russell lee]
all my niggz, get yo hustle on (get yo hustle on)
and you punk police, needa leave us alone (needa leave us alone)
see, i don’t give a f-ck, and i don’t play no games (and i don’t play no games)
cuz all my niggz, they ’bout havin’ thangs (they ’bout havin’ thangs)

[spm]
nasty hoes, and goofy n-gg-s
everybody tryin’ they best to get wit us
ruthless friends, and a crazy family
n-gg-s try to sue me for -ssault and battery
crooked judges and expensive lawyers, i’m surrounded
by m-th-f-ckin’ news reporters
cocaine snorters and drug importers
if i leave the city, i break my court orders
was a kick door burglar, and teenage murderer
my house be filled up with dope fiends’ furniture
mathematical, attack like animal
in my new whip, bangin’ barry manilo
totally radical, my flow is magical
she don’t suck d-ck, then we ain’t compatible
quick to shoot, foo, then go to his funeral
sippin’ pharmaceutical, i feel so beautiful

[chorus]

[merciless]
you mi vida be closed captioned (uh-huh)
been runnin’ wild (yeah)
addicted to them streets, my criminal lifestyle
a juvenile delinquent got no f-ckin’ manners
smokin’ wee ’till my eyes bleed (gettin’ drunk and crashin’)
i swear my family tree, got roots that be rotten
if you dare to step on my block proceed with caution (uh-huh)
you see we all loc.s (yeah) clicked up we all folks
slangin’ stolen merchandise crank shrm. and c-ke
quick to blast sh-t i catch as good as sk-nk nothing
with the big black whip they at the po po service
no second chance, when you dance with death
as your body gets cold with hot slugs in your chest
merciless, no remorse, no pity,
see i come from a city where att-tudes be sh-tty
and nothin worse in this world, than a vato that’s broke (uh-huh)
mad at the world and got nothing to smoke

[chorus]

[max minelli]
maan with so much drama poppin’ on my sets
it’s kinda hard bein’ that n-gg- m-a-x, but i
somehow still run my sh-t so proper
you can spin this ’till your fingers turn the color or copper
keep a soviet chopper, layin’ across my dresser
the outlaw ain’t crackin’ under police pressure
so, i’m wit whatever that’s gon’ keep my sh-t flippin’
me and hap. thug together like gore and bill clinton
from the streets gettin’ smoked out and syrup on sippin’
cookin’ more hoe chickens than popeye’s kitchen
my old lady b-tchin’ and for 17 minutes
i’m in the m-th-f-ckin’ game, y’all n-gg-s still in the scrimmage
that boy young minelli keep a hustlers image
nice piece and chain, hundred fifty dollar tenis
with drag and strings, pants saggin’ man
cuz them n-gg-s on my block ’bout havin’ thangs

[chorus]

- lone star ridaz lyrics

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