Foxy Brown

Foxy Brown - 4-5-6 lyrics

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Foxy Brown - 4-5-6 
[Beanie Sigel] 
Ughh, ughh, yeah 
This is Beanie Sigel 
That Philly cat playin` wit that silly rap 
Put your weight up, not your hate up, niggas 
Y`all know how I play quiet towns and tie `em down 
Haters wonderin` how I got a position with Roc 
Cuz I listen to The LOX and I listen then watch 
While you still sittin` in spots, ditchin` the cops 
I`m in the Porsche Box with Fox, glistenin` watch 
War steel gray, Lexus, GS-4 
Desert Eagle metal in the door, pedal to the floor 
I`m routin` down South, for my aim is to score 
Eight cylinder, screamin` `Fuck the law!` 
Got a tank full of gas, trunk full of cash 
Hammers in the stash, scanners in the dash 
Radar detectors, troopers can`t find us 
We bubble down ATL and hit the `Linas 
Then get clubbed with some Dirty South thugs 
Go all out thugs, go in your house thugs 
Talk shit, put blood in your mouth thugs 
36 South stuck, stay on route thugs 
You know how Mac play, quiet town, tie it down 
I supply it now, by the pound 
Might front you a Q if you buy a pound 
If you didn`t try it then, why would you try it now? 
Think cause Mac rap, I wouldn`t fire a round into your crown 
I lay you down and retire you clown 
And I clap niggas, nap niggas in the dirt 
Pat-pat with the deuce deuce, it`ll work 
Bitch ass niggas wearin` thongs and skirts 
Catch `em early in the mornin` while they goin` to work 
See you pretty motherfuckers stay stuck in the mirror 
And you weak ass niggas only bust out of fear 
I know y`all softer than them feathers that they stuff in a bear 
I pack two barettas, never bust in the air 
Twist your shit back, spit til my gat sits back 
Pack four pieces like a Kit Kat.Heh, get that? 
Cop Cris` by the six-pack, Range Rov?` Dot six that 
Benz Coupe, drop six that 
Buggy eye seven come out?Shit, took the six back 
Switch the Double R, the Double R`s are, gotta get that 
You see how we play, pop Cris` on the E-Way 
Soakin` the seat, gettin` drunk with Bleek 
Or the Shark Bar, grilled salmon, poppin` Dom P 
While you chicken when you chasin` your high with hot tea 
Niggas flashin` back money like it`s they money 
Slap 500 on back of a three-twenty 
I`m bringin` it to any nigga tryin` to shoot games (yeah) 
With them bullshit buggy-eyed kits and CDs 
[Memphis Bleek] 
Check it out, yo, yo 
Well, I`m a lil` nigga don`t speak, I tote heat 
Here to shut down your whole operation on the street 
Bleek, you know niggas just had to recruit this 
My flow drool out like a old nigga toothless 
Who would believe they pump Bleek with Ritalin 
Too hyped up, but weed calm my adrenaline 
Roll day on the strip, SK in the crib 
Hundred crack viles, playin` the Benj` 
Nickel nine gleam, like it`s Armor All`d up 
My squad be armed up, gotcha niggas` arms up 
Who the fuck want what?Me and Bean`s trumped up 
Witcha town under siege, Dillinger in the sleeve 
If my gun jam, you niggas`ll squeeze on me 
You niggas them cats, that`ll call D`s on me 
I`m on on my off game, need a stadium for in stores 
Floss chains and I pimp whores, stay smoked out 
Shirt be poked out with the snub-nosed eight 
Six to jump out, you eat what you spit 
Motherfucker die clean
For you actin` tough cats, but in your heart you scream 
I read your body languo 
You off balance and don`t wanna mangle 
You want a challenge, get it brought to from every angle 
This shit`ll slow `em down, I bet that 
Your up front dough and your six, bet that motherfucker 
[Foxy Brown] 
Sassy Fox some brick money, cop me a drop 
You know how I run it, 600, glassy top 
Rock the light gray wrist shit, flash them rocks 
The red, the yellow, the green, causin` traffic stops 
Bitch please, never freeze, gonna blast the glock 
Then I show a little cleave` and breeze past the cops 
You talk slick but suck dick for money in y`all hand 
I`m like, "Bitch, I got more money than your man" 
While you get your knees scraped up, cum all on your glands 
Shit, I`m in the V Twinz ballin` on you tramps 
Y`all hoes greasy, so I keep the bitch easy 
Rookie, fuck you know about glocks and pock` books? 
You know Na Na rock that shit, Pra-da that shit 
Es-ca that shit, Dolce Gabba that shit 
Hollow points, top that shit, fuck you tryin` to aim 
Pop that shit, yeah, nigga, Fox got that shit 
You see the ice wrist shit, can you cop that shit 
Chanel crocodile and ostrich shit, whoa! 
You know my style, I be spendin` they cash 
And I`ll show their little dick some celebrity ass
And get `em a brick, I know what style to get them niggas shit real 
Well, fuck, I let `em live and lick the tip of my shit 
To remind `em of some rose petals, candles, and shit 
Or some hydro like the nigga grew a plant in my shit 
So that`s what it is, that`s why them hoes mad at my shit 
See my whilin` in the four-six, stylin` on they bum ass 
Goddess MC, y`all bitches is little Foxes 
I see my girls frontin`, tossin` they little watches 
Cris?I pops it.Fuckin` a nigga topless 
Cats?I fouls on.Hoes?I styles on, nigga 
Wear y`all out then air y`all out 
Over here?Hustle from where, clear all out 
Shit, greyhound bitch, stay down bitch 
And y`all know Jigga sent me here to lay down shit 
I will spray y`all niggas, will waste y`all niggas 
Cause I fucked the nigga and paid y`all niggas 
Shit, what the fuck.
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Violator Records, L.L.C.


Released in: 1999

Language: English

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