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Fix lyrics For the record by Shyne

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Pshhhh pshhhh Uhh [repeat 3x] [Verse 1] Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e Listened to his tape, this lil´ nigga used to sound like cake Maybe I´m juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin See a whole lot different when my sales ecliped What I see is straight bug, straight girl Yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs Rather look at the facts not the hype Like who got shot and who got knifed Who keep gettin struck, but don´t neva strike Hope the beef go away but the feds indict I know yo card nigga, it´s so clear You juss wanna sell record you don´t want warfare You don´t wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide These niggaz would´ve died if they shot me nine times Heyy it´s juss for the best Take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum It´s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin´ their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight Pray to god while I´m gone, is what underneath feels like It´s my work by the surf when they turn off the lights [Verse 2] You ain´t kill humma ´cause if you did Why you ain´t get the pen after all of that hit You know I know, that if you live That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut Yoo pac´s a nigga, nobody got shot Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what Okay okay killa you´sa slut Think about it, enoughs enoughs I´m tryna show ´em whoes who And what is what I mean how can I respect you When them niggaz that left you ain´t none of ´em blessed you (not nobody) You know where they are, where they perform Bust yo gun, stop makin songs Please no more ghetto quran You got money now it´s time to bomb And that´s juss fo the top Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart [2x] Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum [Verse 3] Death of perfection as I move witout motion Ain´t no nigga in his game doin the shit that I´m quotin´ Take a good look ´cause you´ll neva a see enought of me Might be sum otha g´s tryna trace n color me But I believe in the ways of old Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po That shouldn´t excist, fuckin snitch Cut of his dick, put it on his lips You really think I was gon´ let you slide Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind You really think jail was gon´ make thinks right Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life I was mindin´ my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go I ain´t lyin this is the mob You got yo break come finish yo job Juss don´t get the feds involved And I´mma reunite you wit yo moms Rip I guess this ain´t juss music Cuz jail only made me much mo´ ruthless (nigga) And the bitch nigga knew this That´s why he tryed to sign me to g-unit Tell ´em how you made me offers (I don´t want that blood I´mma godfather) Jumped on every street corner Hurts yo heart that you don´t get that honor The feds I paid fo that 10 years up top I sell ´em much shop Both of ya was blood Took the bus wit cuz Want gun fo gun I earned my lug You, you juss pathetic You neva bg, bespite yo average Take this mob shit serioue, you gon´ respect it Tha´s juss fo the record [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin ´em apart Cuz it´s a blood comin outta his slum It´s murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin´ their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night pretty good witta a slug might heat me tight Pray to god while I´m gone, is what underneath feels like It´s my work by the surf when they turn off the light

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