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re-up gang – re-up lyrics

[pusha-t:]
yughk! young obnoxious, hand on our crotches
swagger outta this world call us the diddy boppers
f-ck the sh-t out ya girl, let the city watch us
hit her with the dougie like cam’ron —
move b-tch, move b-tch, throw that sh-t, my jam’s on
white lambo; hear them fans blow!
black interior, i’s a modern day sambo
so n-ggerish, they flows frivolous
tickle us pink like white girl cl-toris
f-cking the game up, re-up
them n-ggas deceive ya, we get ’em for 13 fever
we don’t believe ya
my reputation carry stripes in hood, i am zebra
f-cker! neither, you nor ya man’s my caliber
i challenge ya, the cocaine balancer
we hear you from afar, i’m silencer, neighborhood p

[sandman:]
dig it — i’m in a rage like cujo
y’all wanna wrestle, play sumo
merk yer b-tch -ss on my uno
you know — shots from the two blow
flush all other n-gga faces
we take other n-ggas’ places, ‘cuse us!
no excuses, lame like confucius!
don’t confuse us, we really do this!
re-up’s ruthless, ain’t much to prove this!
two clips, not pusha and mal
the two holding the rounds
the cl!ck-clack and the pow, p-ssy!
talk foul, get slapped in ya mouth, p-ssy!
when i’m around, take it back out of the house, p-ssy!
and i’m flossing too, big charm wit a igloo, r & s blue
sky like, i’m high like, giraffe -ss
crack hash, re-up, what y’all mad at?

[malice:]
this ain’t nothing but candy from a baby;
i sell that sh-t! got ’em stuck since the ’80s
y’all ain’t even thinking about sticking to format;
y’all n-ggas telling, “oo-oo”ing like horshack
singing with the band, with snares and hi-hats
and it ain’t slow us, no we kept hunting for more crack!
we ain’t holla back, n-gga we holla black!
card era, second coming taking ya back
and it’s a known fact y’all tired of the circus
so come home where you smell the crack in the verses!
the whole rap world watched the clipse take a bow
we left it in ya hands, you ain’t make father proud!
none of y’all can copy—a hard act to follow
we was cursed with the spirit of verses, the stigmata!
suicide bomb ya, like mohamed atta
or the doors on that phantom, re-up, we rap martyrs what?

[ab-liva:]
black card exclusive, member of the secret society:
it’s not just music that i barter with
tape tight on the soft ya chef to get harder with
art of it, mastered the flame that they solder with
young’un you could learn — liva coach carter it!
i was a part of it, loiter in the wool
ritz thirty paces from work, i thirty grand, two shirts
“chez a re-va jeux tee” scribbled in the wool st-tch
three quarter blazer;
sharp like a single edge razor on them gemstars
breaking that beige up
now i’m an arm left of the best as we conquest
the rest of the rap game, you listen in vain n-gga
got lil’ bad b-tches emilio pucci;
sitting on blades like christie yamaguchi
in the sl two-seat; six-inch heels by gucci;
when a player land ma scoop me
no luggage i shopped in, california sun on my skin
as the rocks blind traffic that i’m in
i’m magic with pen; i’m jordan in the booth;
i’m ‘melo with the flow; lebron i’m the truth

- re up gang lyrics

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