One-eighty-seven is a lesson for them niggas that want to test. Bring more than one, 'cause me shotgun'll be buckin' your chest. Wanna be Mo Thug? Thugsta mentality runs through the Bone. Pop, pop to the dome fall short to the chrome, gift wrap that bitch ass on. Much love for the green leaves, but me trues have to ease me down. Puff, puff, head rush, poppin' in me clip, and I got plenty rounds. Me no pretender, no studio thugsta. Bone'll get with ya [with ya], and if me miss ya, Strate, Number 1, and the Ripsta swing, watch 'em hit ya, [hit ya], so we can swang, [we can swang], down for me thang [down for me thang], feel the blow to the brain. Thought you could hang, when I swang them thangs, that's insane. Stay low, stay low, so them po-pos--they no me no surrender. Them niggas on the street--they remember Bone is being no pretender, standin' up on the block, 9 millimeter cocked in me hand, and me got me niggas lookin' after me back, and them watch, [let them rott] holdin' watch. You know it's nothin' but the neighborhood thang. It's mandatory for me neighborhood slang.
"Neighborhood Slang" Lyrics
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WasteLand Lyrics: The Art of Bone.
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