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Flycell Home Page » Ringtones » Who Did You Expect (Backstage LP Version)

Who Did You Expect (Backstage LP Version) Lyrics – DJ Clue


Who Did You Expect (Backstage LP Version)

DJ Clue
Song Writer(s): Dean, Kaseem, Jacobs, Sean, Phillips, Jason, Styles,
Publisher: EMI APRIL MUSIC INC., JAE'WON PUBLISHING, JUSTIN COMBS PUBLISHING INC, PANIRO'S PUBLISHING, SHEEK LOUCHI



Yo, even if I just cooked up, if money's comin' give you it moist
And don't be scared to die, I ain't give you a choice
*****s'll try to kill you 'cuz of what they think you got
And the ambulance'll take longer if they think you shot
***** f**k the ********, kiss keep a full clip
In front of the store rockin' gauze in the wool rich
Blowin' sticky green gr***, that'll sit me on my ***


Wit a mean sports coupe with 160 on the dash
So what I got a Rollie, and it got alotta ice
I pull my gun out, and bet I get another one tonight
Your brother died, bet your mother lose another son tonight
I'm clever, only time we party, when we beat a body
Or when they free Gotti, so that means never
To my *****s in they cell wit a hour of rec


Or K.L., for beatin' a coward to death
I feel y'all, so feel me, even if y'all guilty
Time y'all *****s come home, the God'll be filthy
Even though by then these ***g*ts probably be done killed me
I tell my son, keep it real, give y'all *****s each a bill
So what's the deal, *****s y'all know the deal, uh


Who did you expect, what, L O X to the death
And we go hard dog, every time, nothing less
Catch us at the dice game, blowin' a thou
Never go in to trial, coppin' out, holdin' it down
We could get it on, any way shape or form
Any day of the week, Styles, Jada, and Sheek
It ain't hot 'less we are *****s we are the heat
'We are the streets' and we makin' it hard to eat


Ayo, you say f**k me, I feel the same way about you b****
*****s made you rich and now you act like this
Who them thuggest *****s on your team, guns to the triple beam
Without rap my nickels gleam, drug money make it seem
Fast, *****s puff hydro and hash like it's nicotine
Fake *****s, rid o them, who flip from wealth
You want space, I give your whole hospital room to yourself


I got doctors who make house calls when *****s get hit
That way the press and the cops run ****, feel me kid
When it comes to thuggin' it, ***** that's my sport
I even pick up your shells so you won't get caught
Dumb dumbs, *****s camouflaged playin' as bums
Pop up, shoot through the liquor bottle, straighten your lungs


Take the bum clothes off, buy a paper at the newsstand
Walk by me, scream out, 'Somebody help this man'
Not even life insurance helpin' your fam, I'm takin' that
I'm from Yonkers motherf******, where the murderers at
Murderous gat, we bloodline no cur in our pack
You owe us dough, have it as that, I leave it at that, ***g*ts


Who did you expect, what, L O X to the death
And we go hard dog, every time, nothing less
Catch us at the dice game, blowin' a thou
Never go in to trial, coppin' out, holdin' it down
We could get it on, any way shape or form
Any day of the week, Styles, Jada, and Sheek
It ain't hot 'less we are *****s we are the heat
'We are the streets' and we makin' it hard to eat


Spittin' to live, two bullets hittin' your ribs
You Christen your kids, I let my son listen to B.I.G.
I won't stop till a thousand *****s fit in my crib
I won't be happy till my last ***** finish his bid
All on the top, yeah you could ball in a drop
I'd rather, ball in a yacht, no callin' the cops
In the middle of the ocean, lettin' my nine pop


Givin' a dime ****, blowin' away
Baggin' the yae, tryin' to get a wagon a day
Pick up a quarter, and still throw my chain in the water
Watch on the floor, b**** I'll put my glock in your jaw
*****s think they own a label, just signed a deal
You poppin' that ******** they might find you killed
Slum throwin' the highway, behind the wheel


Or you could do it my way, relax and chill
You could worship SP sell cracks and peels
B**** I smack your mouth while you smoke in the field
Run up in your house, then alarmin' your grill
Drama for real, you never seen honor and will
Till you wake up in the mornin' and your mama is killed


Who did you expect, what, L O X to the death
And we go hard dog, every time, nothing less
Catch us at the dice game, blowin' a thou
Never go in to trial, coppin' out, holdin' it down
We could get it on, any way shape or form
Any day of the week, Styles, Jada, and Sheek
It ain't hot 'less we are *****s we are the heat
'We are the streets' and we makin' it hard to eat, what

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