Proof - Ja in a Bra Songtext[Ja Rule Sample]
Its murdaaa... hahaha...its murda..
We back up in this motherfucker!!!
Its murda... yall know who we be (ayo don't let me catch you!!)
R.U.L.E... my nigga Fatal on my 1s, 2s, holla back you bitch ass niggaz!!
Yo, yo, motherfuckin cocksucker
If y'all havnt heard yet that nigga loose change is loose
And I got proof, get it, I got proof..
[Intro - Proof]
You know my name, its like this..PROOF!!!
Its war now! Lets man up! (WOOF)
No prisoners! No casualties! All my riders lets ride then! CMON!
Word on the street is that I murda this Inc
Get whacked with the hands not deservin the heatin
There's nerves in this beef
To Irv and his peeps: I ain't rappin no mo'
I speak through the curves in the streets
Ya hit's, man, is weak
Ya did a poor job, that midget Cookie Monster be hangin' from a door knob
Ya lucky I don't like touchin women
And don't like no peace, talk somethin' with Russel Simons, (WOOF)
Got the right connections
My perception, ya know, would be beefin, ya life is definatly gone
The ?? singin' at least the Woof of rap
You'll need more than a Bush attack, don't push me back! (WOOF)
You think it's just 50 and Sha, listen up Ja, no kids in the lobby in
Detroit city wishin you DIE!
I know you just wanna rap and be Pac, but before its said and done
you gon' see PAC! (WOOF)
Yall don't want war, y'all want talk
In the dark my dogs all bark like WOOF!
PROOF, nigga, I'ma WOOF
Now you all SHOOK
I'ma about to getcha brain pushed BACK!
This nigga had the nerve to have ten niggaz sneak me just to get wit me
I'm only 160 and the fact is
I murder niggaz, DJs, and kittens
I only walk out with scratches, wearin a Rolex shirt
So if thats the streets, speakin ya dress don't hurt
You cowards do something before we do ours
I could write a Ja Rule album in two hours
Bleedin dead on ya back, have ya pockets flat like Federal Tax and
put ya head on the rack
I'm so bad, the only thing good is death
And L.A. G Unit posted and shook left, (ha, bitch!)
I'm from Detroit with the hottest and hollas
Niggaz like 'yall garbage, don't even bother', (haha)
Plus ya overweight and gangstas is maddening
50 made Wanksta and the definition of wanksta is AINT TOUGH
With pictures of Ja in a braw with a paint brush, paintin his war marks
I'm losin my patience
It ain't just D12 and Obie, homey, cancel ya shows and show respect
like ya know me, (hehe)
It zones and its hailin a jet
911 style: to ya face to ya chest
911 style: to ya face to ya chest
It's over, nigga, gettin wet on the set, BLAU!!!
I ain't even talkin no more!
I can't believe my nig can write yo whole ass out, nigga!
Whatcha talkin about 'that we gave ya the proof!'
You scared to come in that club, nigga!
You ain't got shit!
I'ma tell you like this: Black Child, Chris Gotti, I'm on that ass!
Cmon! See! You niggaz wanna be street niggaz!
Who would you wanna recruit?
Cause I'ma murd' all you soldiers and recruit ya bosses when this over!
Big Proof! D12! Only a one sixty-three!
I left out with scratches, nigga!
Wait till y'all niggaz come to the D!
Yeah, I'm goin to New York! I just love Summer Jams!
I'll be back fuckin with ya bitch!
A'yo, Cookie Monster: come get me, nigga!
Old ass nigga! *laughs*
Now don't make me write some real shit, nigga!
Teile diesen Songtext
Lyrics powered by www.musiXmatch.com
- 01 Intro
- 02 E and 1 Equals None
- 03 Yzark
- 04 Derty Harry
- 05 People Hi for Change
- 06 Neil Armstrong
- 07 Broken
- 08 Shake Dat Donkey
- 09 Runnin Yo Mouth
- 10 Skit: Dolo Speaks 2
- 11 Know Ya Name
- 12 Play Wit Myself
- 13 You Know How 2
- 14 It Aint About Tha
- 15 Cross tha Line
- 16 Bring It to Me
- 17 Ja in a Bra
- 18 Nowhere Fast
- 19 Love Letters
Break up Song
Je suis malade
Break My Heart