A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Ludacris

"Shot Off"

[Intro: Eightball]
He he he, yeeah

[Verse 1: Eightball]
What kind of n*gga always run his mouth like a hoe
Like his jaw got a battery, this n*gga always know
Who got robbed, got shot, who got put on lock
Nobody invited you and still you got up in the spot
Me, I'm not a witness, keep my distance, mind my business
You, somebody talk, you in they mouth like a dentist
We keep it gangsta, mommas love it cause they know it's real
Like UGK, "we keeps it real" mobbin' through the field
Big Ball, Fatboy, unload heat when my brain spill
You for it, images without no coke connect pills
We keep it crunk and poppin' real n*ggas know the deal
We Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill
You try to stop it, get yo' sh*t broke up in twenty pieces
We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit secret features
Game preachers move yo' pimpin' for you mamasitas
We players on the field, y'all n*ggas in them bleachers

[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 2X)
You talkin' down behind my back (uh) you done shot off n*gga
Fifty, four or twenty sack, you done shot off n*gga
If you fly and got a gun (uh) when the drama come, you run (uh)
You know what you just done, you done shot off n*gga

[Verse 2: MJG]
Man come on now, you done shot off, just like my Daytons lost a knockoff
Or a tight-ass shirt when the button pop off
You standin' in snow and you got yo' shoes and socks off
Who holds the key? No-f*ckin-body, I brokes the lock off
I blew the top off, took the comma, period, dot off
And ran on wit it and broke you a whole lot off
I'm gettin' hot and startin' to boil, don't turn the pot off
You disrespectin' pimpin', pimpin' yo, get yo' rocks off
Release some pressure, stop all that cryin' and wipe ya snot off
Excuses you be usin' for losin' it's cheap as hot sauce
Earn yo' position, stop hatin' beacuse you not boss
M-J-G, pimp tight, I'm movin' yo' spot off
And I don't reach, stoppin' yo' plans, f*cking yo' plot off
I go hard and I don't sheave and I'm not off
And livin' on the edge rebellin' I'm never dropped off
Like Aaron Hall, "Don't Be Afraid" b*tch, call the cops off

[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 2X)

[Verse 3: Ludacris]
Now you can either check yo' ego at the do' (door) or let the drama unfold
And check my Rap Sheet, b*tch, I'm almost ten million sold
I'm only rappin' cause I want to, I got enough plaques
Needless to say, my favorite rappers told me to get on this track
And so I DID it, quickly wrote my sixteen down and SPIT it
By the end of the verse you'll say, "once again, Ludacris sh*t it"
Then I'll wipe this wit yo' face and put yo' pride in the trash
My whole career is like my video, I'm showin' my ass
I keeps it, "gangsta, gangsta!" shooters and shanksters
Until you shot off motherf*ckers, I'm a "thank ya, thank ya!"
Runnin' yo' mouth behind my back until you run out of time
But at least yo' talkin' let's me know some millions stay on yo' mind
It ain't nothin' wrong wit that
Tell em grabbin' the thang and then I put it to yo' brain
And change everything you ever hope fo' (for) wit the .44
You'll be fallin' back
And yak - is what I'm drinkin' steady thinkin' bout these pigs chasin'
I'm bout to bring home the bacon

[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 4X)

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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