Who Dat? – D-block – letras

[Styles P:]Hahaha, OWWWWWW!We just keep smokin and smokin and smokinHehehe, I enjoy myself!I eventually expect to fall out one of these daysBut fuck it… whattup?M-I-double-L-I-O-N’sGot cash, can’t trust some of my old friendsNiggaz ain’t walk this path of my old TimbsLet me find out it’s my lawn that there’s potholes inCause P ain’t Posdonus, smoke blunts like a rastaHold uzis in a mobster suitThe Bugati got ostrich seats, my gosh I’m loosePick up 50 G’s a morning with my orange juiceNow, you don’t know me and you don’t want toCause – six in the mornin, I’m comin to hunt youGive it a little time, I have the country sewedCause I did more dirt than a country roadFrankly I don’t give a damn like, Humphrey Bog’20 bricks, 50 pounds that’s my monthly loadNigga watch the pump explode, you can jump if you wantBut I’ma dump ’til I ran the globe (c’mon)[Chorus: T. Waters]Who’s that makin that God damn noise?That’s S.P., Waters and them D-Block boysDon’t worry ’bout a scrap daddy, we pop toysSo don’t go fuckin with them D-Block boysNow now now who that makin that God damn noise?That’s S.P., Waters and them D-Block boysDon’t worry ’bout a scrap daddy, we pop toysSo don’t go fuckin with them D-Block boys[T. Waters:]Street dreams consist of triple beamsA vest’ll connect with the best for red seamsA M-16 for fiends with heavy habitsWhy wait on him when Waters already have it?Spread to the West, started with petty trafficGet a gassy nigga ass and dead him with some matchesNow he ashes, no need for a casketFuckin bastard, I’m the greatest, young CassiusSqueeze first or get hit ’til your knees hurtAnd do top {?} free work on your t-shirtUsually with bitches I start with the beat firstBut I’ma show these niggaz that beef hurtNow now now, I stay true to my tattoosOne life to live, forgive me T. Waters a foolI used to sell weed, half quarters at schoolPut some bread on his head, I’ll slaughter the dudes, ya heard?[Chorus][Styles P:]You don’t wanna be in the comaFuckin with this Ruff Ryder artist, D-Block ownerAny liquor I drink I chase with CoronasRap so hard niggaz tryin to clone usNeeded a Ghost Rider you just shoulda phoned usYou really ain’t gangster cause you been woulda showed usWhattup homey, whattup cuzI keep a orange boxcutter and I don’t cut up rugsMad beef jumpin off is what a whattup doesIf I felt like the vibe was wrong, that’s my word12 gauge mausberg, your side is goneNow some of y’all is joinin, some of y’all retirinYou need a hit man, I’m the one for hirin (call me)I keep the dutch and the gun, still firinWatch out for niggaz, cause feds got ’em wired inFirst second third and fourth, I hear si-rens[Chorus][gunshot and gunfire]