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Cree

Detta way,
Yo Countree, it's our country
You know how badness is
(Countree Hype music)
War, can't bawl cree
Tell the craft man, say, we're full of technique.
Make him feel like we're good (people) and then it's R.I.P.
Show up at 'em night-nights celebration coz our hearts are clean.
Nah, they say they're doing it but they don't do it like us.
The guns, they're nuff (a lot).
Warrior is here too, what have they heard of?
Open up the 'TEC and let the air out.
Everybody in the way, they have to clear out.
Light switch, duppy bat flipping
Don't do lots of talking.
No chatting.
Don't argue put some bullets in dome
Money more than bad bitches
And I know some savage (people) that give no chances
Bullet sending y'all home.
Go for my chopper (yeah),
Fuck yah mother
(Yeah)
Our money's stacked high till it's bursting out the suitcase (yeah, yeah).
I dropped by my dawgs and got a tracker (yeah)
Set up a boy in his place (yeah, yeah)
I'm still bad, solo
See me on a one-way (street)
Entourage, I'm bad by myself
But now am rolling with my niggas that look rough with their hair not combed.
(yeah)
A couple of niggas
A couple of takers that don't laugh blaze the chrome
What they finna do more than pull (out the gun)
Head shot stop the gap
Shoot and praise the Lord
Don't tell me 'bout no fucking cops
These yutes here are cowards.
They are like pussies that are under a frock.
Man go pull up on their block, Watch the shots
Open and go knock
Can't bawl cree, say we're full of technique
Let him feel like we're good and then it's R.I.P.
Show up at their nine-nights coz our hearts are clean.
 
Juveniles aren't gonna trick me
Step to me how should I know he's a pickeney?
I say one into the chamber, trigger fingers is itchy.
Why are they calling the ambulance for?
Hearse, is what he's going to want.
Better yall chill.
Can't even take a joke
So, it's better yall chill. If they diss, it's gunshots
Even my gal knows what's up
(Yeah)
Burst it, burst it up,
Upon them
Coz this ain't no conference, action, aim and squeeze.
Shot is ripping his body in fifty pieces.
Boys are dying and dropping and and up to now they cant believe.
 
For the enemy, looks like they think we don't have the remedy
It's rubber upon the grip
I pressed it up and sent them to the cemetery.
Poof and disappeared
Only thing that's left is just the memory , yeah
They ain't bad like us.
Tell the craft man, say, we're full of technique.
 
Show up at 'em night-nights celebration coz our hearts are clean.
Nuff say they do it but Nah, they don't do it like us.
The guns, they're nuff (a lot).
Warrior is here too, what have they heard of?
Anybody's head in the way is gonna get blown off.