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the lox - fuck you lyrics

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[intro]
sh-t
feel this

[chorus]
if you hoped we wouldn’t make it, f-ck you (f-ck you)
talk with a heart full of hatred, f-ck you (f-ck you)
and you said we wouldn’t cake it, f-ck you (f-ck you)
only my man blood is sacred, c-cksucker, f-ck you
if you hoped we wouldn’t make it, f-ck you (f-ck you)
talk with a heart full of hatred, f-ck you (f-ck you)
and you said we wouldn’t cake it, f-ck you (f-ck you)
only my man blood is sacred, c-cksucker, f-ck you

[verse 1: jadakiss]
yo, everybody’s a snake
that’s why i try to keep the gr-ss cut
so i can see ’em when they coming
then i heat they -ss up
cuz’ them n-ggas that you went to school with
will catch you while you in your new whip
and turn your brains into cool whip
n-ggas that you running round getting -ss with
ain’t gon’ help you do nothing but carry your casket
got the nerve to ask kiss why i smoke so much
and how i’m such a young n-gga that seem to know so much
while you was running round pumping for n-ggas
i was listening
and you still pumping for n-ggas
i’m coming through visiting
you heard, l-o-x came through in a yellow lex
and hop out with the air force one’s with yellow checks
and you liable to see me dolo, icing the rolo
burner under the polo, alot of y’all is h0m-s
funny style n-ggas never down with me
type that go to the bathroom, sit down and pee
i’ll enter your house, back of your cribs, smacking your kids
bullets going through your leather, cracking your ribs
don’t even hit me on the hip if i ain’t give you a code
and i ain’t got a home phone number, i live on the road
now i’m getting bigger checks, conference calls with bigger ‘xecs
bigger bracelets with bigger baguettes
f-ck y’all

[verse 2: styles p]
all i do is get high, and think of fading you all
motherf-ckers hit ‘cha knees and just pray to the lord
i’d rather die today than live tomorrow
then watch you crab motherf-ckers just steal and borrow
put in my work, you might get put in a church
funeral time, everybody kissing the corpse
learn the ropes, don’t riff if you soft, you p-ssin me off
call me s.p., and i spit on your boss
you can die cause this sh-t might happen to me
but i’mma still happen to be, packin the 3
f-ck with b-tches that be wrappin the keys
and the n-ggas that bug over drug money, clappin the d
shoot in the breeze, 9 in the boot, full of trees
1 in the morning, catch me with a gun on the corner
let you know it’s all real and you can front if you wanna
i understand, f-ck it dog, die in the can
i say you p-ssy, you won’t die for your right-hand man
as well as your left, n-ggas trade felon for death
they touch you, only thing i can say is f-ck you

[verse 3: sheek louch]
a-yo, y’all n-ggas ain’t hardcore, all my n-ggas is homicide
what you know about getting shot, letting the drip dry
letting the spit fly, seeing sparks whiz by
putting a m-a-s-h on n-ggas like klinger and horgi
so soft you smushy, i blast ’til your sh-t is gushy
should be the head cat in the broadway play, you p-ssy
f-ck with sheek, ouija board spell “death”
you can talk that beef sh-t, i hope that deep sh-t
be as deep as you inside the f-cking cement
or you can deep sea dive, with no scuba gear
i’ll drown you with your snorkel on, b-tch, breathe out of there
whole team rich, never seen a summer like this
baking hot, and you can sled ride down my wrist, neck, and hand
when it comes to c0ke, i can make a snowman, sh-t
play in this sh-t make a angel with it
and i don’t give a f-ck about that 380 that y’all share
between the 10 y’all with the same 8 bullets from last year
when i bust i use snubs, denim flee in the spot
the hand i write with need a oven glove, my sh-t so hot
i want the most, roley only work when it’s next to my pulse
f-ck a presie, gimme a yacht master, regular bezzy
then i’m good when i’m in the hood and i’m on the block
you got a gut feeling about sh-t, n-gga, that means you shot, what

[chorus]
if you hoped we wouldn’t make it, f-ck you
talk with a heart full of hatred, f-ck you
and you said we wouldn’t cake it, f-ck you
only my man’s blood is sacred, c-cksucker, f-ck you
i’ll tell you in your face, f-ck you
pull it off my waist, hit you up, f-ck you
and watch you die on the street, f-ck you
whoever feel sad at the funeral, f-ck them too

- the lox lyrics

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