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ya boy - hang ya self 12" lyrics

[intro – cyssero (ya boy)]
aye yo, aye yo
aye yo, tell n-ggas to move the f-ck over, (yeah) get the f-ck on
i’m in the buildin’, ya boy (ya boy) in the buildin’
i’m f-ckin’ fiiya, you f-cka (cyssero the virus)
let’s ride the f-ck out n-gga (haha)
what?! haaa!!

[verse 1 – ya boy]
you betta’ ask around, (chyea!) my n-ggas packin’ pounds
i used to play with water guns, now i’m packin’ ratchets pal (brraatt!)
we keep heat, you would think wade and shaq in town
.357 big enough to knock back a cow (brrraatt!)
ya’ claim to be the best, and i’m askin’ how?
ya boy done hooked up with the virus, call me west nile (chyea!)
call the sirens, sh-lls flyin’, hope your vest around
shots fired (fiiyyed), leave ’em paralyzed from the necklace down (unh!)
i’m talkin’ reckless now, hit the booth and wreck it down (yeah!)
always made stacks, instead of crack i’m sellin’ records now (unhh!)
i eat beef like a double decker checkers burger (yup!)
i ain’t scared to do a murda’, i’ma weapon squirta’ (yeah!)
i’ll let the weapon squirt ya’ (yeah!), wet ya’ like the effin’ surfa’
and we keep work, hope you nerds is good lesson learners (get ’em!)
two n-ggas, four burnas’ like a stove top
aim tha fif’ and leave the sucka’ stiff like a blow pop
c-ck and dump, pop the trunk, stuff ‘im like stove top (chyea!)
rolled around for two weeks and got tha range rove’ hot (haa!)
i’m like moses, how dem o’s part
make the c0ke, go hard on the back of the bus like rosa parks (chyea!)
conduct keys like mozart (chyea!)
when the fo’s spark, ya’ betta’ be on tha lookout like a coast guard (chyea!)
be quiet or we’ll shoot ya’ (brraatt!)
have ya’ hooked up to mo’ wires than the back of a computer, b-tch!

[cyssero talkin’]
ya boy! yeah!
it’s my turn now, man (aaaaahhh!)
cyssero the mothaf-ckin’ virus (ay ya boy, i gotchu n-gga!)
we takin’ sh-t the f-ck over
i don’t give a f-ck about none of that veteran sh-t, none of that n-gga (bay area stand up!)
you wann’ see me n-gga? (yuh!) then walk n-gga, walk!

[verse 2: cyssero]
chyea!
movin’ thru tha hood wit tha choppa on deck (deck!)
pounds of dat skunk burryed down in tha trunk (trunk!)
red-fitted, white-t, over tha brim
highly-intoxicated from tha doja and gin
ridin’ like tha rolla-coasta, holdin’ toasta wit him
hollow-point, two 2-3’s, loaded in a min
somethin’ used wit wit tha scope so i can focus it in
hit his head and dissapear, hocus-pokus wit him (yeah!)
i’m from tha hood where they give rock to go to tha penn’
tha grave where a lot of em go, but jail is where most of dem been
it’s so d-mn pathetic, i’m coppin’ hammer after hammer
gotta hammer fetish, beef – i’ll let tha hammer get it
if you talkin’ – i’m sparkin’, him and his mayne a get it (brraatt!)
a head shot, numb his body like a anastetic
i got, money on my mind and got plans to get it (chyea!)
brain stormin’ in a ‘coupe, smokin’ grams of relish
hardest n-gga out, ask – tha fans’ll tell ya (chyea!)
i’m tha sh-t (smell it!), even ya gurl can smell it (hahaha)
i’m mach 5 movin’ – i am not human
i’m alreadi been chosen, you can stop choosin’
yes! i’m tha most cleaverly experienced, line-fo’-line lyricst
point blank, period!!
listin when you’re hearin’ it, mayne im somethin’ serius
full beard, a.k., i move like terrorist
give you 36 like a square when i’m air-in it
so while you’re still breath-in air, you betta cherish it (chee-yuh!)
you think you betta then me? i think he hillarious! (hahaha)
i’ma pittbull off tha leash, capiche? (yeah!)
neva broke, i got work i could sell (uh huh)
and workin’ wit dat workin’ got me workin’ wit skells
where i’m from, they eitha end up in a he-rs- or in jail
i spit piff, you could roll this whole verse in a “l”
nikka!!!

[outro]
(yeah, nikka!) from k!lla-cali to k!lla’delphia (ya boy, cyssero!)
p-ssy azz nikkas!! we got tha mothaf-ckin’ body bags readi fo’ you b-tches
nikka! (uh huh)
if you ain’t like it, f-ck you and ya momma nikka!
dat’s how we get tha f-ck down nikka! (put a make up on dem nikkas, show em
how f-ckin’ freaks they are, nikka!)
2007’s owned nikka! (east to tha west)
a young nikka’s turn, nikka (it’s dat f-ckin’ crack musik!)
you old azz nikkas mayne, turn ya f-ckin’ microphone up mayne
ya digg? (huh!)
mayne, this from tha hearth nikka, you ho’ azz nikkas mayne! (yessirr!)
get tha f-ck out tha way nikka!
g-block, f-ck tha hood nikka!
sell tha pound, get tha f-ck down!
ya dig?! (ahhh!!)
whole up-town stand tha f-ck up!
whole north stand tha f-ck up!
bay area stand tha f-ck up, nikka!!
this where it started! fo’ us!!
this where it ended fo’ you, lil’ f-cks!
you got a f-ckin’ problem, holla at me!!

- ya boy lyrics

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