B Legit

B Legit - Don't Blame It On Me (feat. E-40)

Your rating:
They can have all the armor but that calm doesn't harm

 Chorus One: E 40

 Double cross the game  and get yo' head to' off
 Disrespect the game  ya get yo' head to' off
 Your faulty bitches main? A getcha head to' off
 Fuck with my riches main? And getcha head to' off  beittch!

 [B Legit]
 I'm erog enous  most dog in this
 Dark brown like a clot, but now I'm saucy
 Hoes toss me they number like an alley-oop
 But I slam it in the trash, if she ain't got, ass and loot
 Shoot, it's all mine in the nine sizzle
 Pistol still fizeal fine, direct hits make em retire
 I ain't no liar, I put it on my flow
 Niggaz fuck around, they get they head to' off

 What's up? They disrespect us
 Them fools ain't tryin to fight no wars
 You talkin about bang bang
 That's the way this shit gonna go
 Just let your balls hang
 Don't think about just do it
 Cause when you think about it
 Before you know it, you blew it
 I ain't got shit to lose
 No mercy nigga, no sarges
 Get your rowdy boys
 Do it today not tomorrow
 Check your inventory
 Make sure you got enough ammo
 It's self-explanitory
 Don't let em blow out the candle, biotch!


 Chorus Two: E-40

 Think about it 'fore you pop that shit
 Cause if they find you witcha crew, they pack split
 Don't blame it on me (4X)
 (repeat all 2X)

 You came up sixteen
 Interest is fast
 She'll still serve everybody
 for the cash
 She likes to party
 with her ass-lick pussy-lick
 Lick ass

 And we some grown men, we turn trill hoe out
 And all we ever did was stuck dick in her mouth
 We fuck wines to the millionaires
 Ball players that play, you better keep your bitch out the Bay

 The less fortunate
 The sluts, the drug abusers
 Oldest profession known to mankind
 is prostitution
 When I make a zillion I resign
 just like clockwork
 But you know me I'm always a day or two late
 and a dollar short

 I trick a bitch that love Legit and do whatever I tell her to
 From credit card scams to givin head to you
 So if you breathe, know what I mean, prepare that ass
 for the guillotine boss, get that ass to' off

 Chorus One
 Chorus Two

 I got dreams of a mansion with the glass block
 About a million point five in the stash box
 I let the beat knock, I let the ass drop
 And if a nigga run up, he get ch-uh-chopped

 Case number two forty six, she been in an unhappy dwellin
 Neighbors steady complainin, bout the dope sellin
 But they ain't never been evicted, or convicted
 They ain't never been subpeonaed to court, or arrested

 I tried to tell em like I once told fools what's up
 Fonzarelli and the Savage get they cash and loss
 I'm from the coast, where we don't play that kid shit
 And niggaz get they motherfuckin wig split

 Ahhhhh I spits nothin less than hi-tech Lugz
 We can buck on each other or we can put on the gloves
 Don't make me mad let me know, if you want more spot
 I can do this playa, get the driveshaft all off, biotch!

 Chorus One
 Chorus Two (to fade)

Get this song at:


Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?


Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found