, mo' mo'. Bitch-ass niggaz from tha otha side, wanna try me, come rock. 'Cause the nigga don't know. Flesh-Verse 3 I really help, can't contain us
put em in the mission for money And I better run I'll grab my gat and flip it wit big shot guns When I'm gone gone strung wit me say now say now
creepin And we still put it down nigga even though we four strong Flesh gone come home, Bone gone stay Bone When the 5th Dawg gets loose it gone be
we thuggin' it up Look at a creepin' on ah come up Ooh, we don't wanna murda ya, and it's so mysterious How many niggas wanna kill us will they run up
they out to pinch ya. Bullshit you not--killin' because of the pump, and it drives us to the point of no return, especially when you 're gone off of the
cant fake the funk at all And bet your ganna fall studying the bone thug style But whatcha ganna do when you face to face with the 5th dawg Sneakin federals
-A-Lot West for the 9-5 You motherfuckers better stay down 'Cos y'all punks couldn't see us with ultrasound coward You motherfuckers couldn't see us with
[ verse 1: lo-lo ] Uno is for the money, deuce is for the show Trey is for the video, what the fuck is fo'? Fo' is for the hoes, and 5 to stay alive
, so recognize So what you gone do Face? (Play till I win) So what you gone do? (Double back and do it again) So what you gone do Face? (I'm a play
too major for bustas Bring the ruckus muthafuckas if you think you can touch us Get on the prime co's, load the black rhinos in the 5-4 Villain, killin
thang gonna get us by and thats the ball game, 5 million on the crib 50 thousand on the dog tag, cracks on the deal, thats twenty mill and you thought I have gone
rollin up if a nigga not burnin I got 5 on it (Got it good) Grab your fo', let's get keyed I got 5 on it Messin' with that endo weed I got 5 on it (
like that little nigga Dream No Auto-tune unless I'm tunning out the burrough Flying through ya borough, (Red) Camaro I had 'em shook like coach on Reggie Bush With that 4-5
daddy was too young to raise me right. Maybe I been made a man from all the mistakes I made Niggas dead, niggas gone, I still ain't afraid. Ain't too
here I come, war games I'm up on the hills, playing little boy soldiers Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30 Shoot, shoot, shoot and kill the natives You're one of us
Berg and Twista, let's get it in Where do we go from here? Now that all of the children are grown up And I will respond my time Knowing nobody gives us
leak on ya Elm Street, Trouble is what you want dog, pain is what you gon' get, It's Young money till the bone grizzle, ya dig? [Verse 5 - Lil' Twist
the feet Goadome Nikes, the cortazone of the poem writer none like us so none like us flyer than the rest of em this where the haters is this why they hate us