For The Record (Album Version)

For The Record (Album Version)

Shyne

Pshhhh pshhhh
Uhh
[Repeat: x3]

[Verse 1]
Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face
He rhyme with a slug tryna sound like ma$e
Listened to his tape, this lil' n**** used to sound like cake
Maybe I'm just killin', maybe he just snitchin'

See a whole lot different when my sales eclipsed
What I see is straight bug, straight thorough
Yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs
Rather look at the facts not the hype

Like who got shot and who got knifed
Who keep gettin' struck, but don't neva strike
Hope the beef go away but the feds indict
I know yo card n****, it's so clear

You just want to sell record you don't want warfare
You don't want to ride you want to get rich and hide
These n****z would've died if they shot me nine times
Hey it's just for the best
Take this mob s*** serious, please respect it

[Hook]
And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart
'Cause it's a blood comin' outta his slum
It's murder bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
When muhf***az ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty cold with a slug might heat me tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like
It's my work by the surf when they turn off the lights

You ain't kill humma 'cause if you did
Why you ain't get the pen after all of that hit
You know I know, that if you live
That s*** that you spit, somebody got somebody

Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
Yoo pac's a n****, nobody got shot
Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what
Okay okay killa you'sa slut

Think about it, enoughs enoughs
I'm tryna show 'em whoes who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you

When them n****z that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you
( not nobody )
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs

Please no more ghetto Qur'an
You got money now it's time to bomb
And that's juss fo the top
Take this mob s*** seriouse please respect it

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart(2x)
'Cause it's a blood comin outta his slum

Death of perfection as I move witout motion
Ain't no n**** in his game doin the s*** that I'm quotin'
Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see enought of me
Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me

But I believe in the ways of old
Slice these n****z throat tryna tell on po
That shouldn't excist, f***in snitch
Cut of his dick, put it on his lips

You really think I was gon' let you slide
F***in wit me you must be outcho mind
You really think jail was gon' make thinks right
n**** I will shoot you till you lose yo life

I was mindin' my own, word got back, n****z talkin bout po
I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this n**** to go
I ain't lyin this is the mob
You got yo break come finish yo job

Just don't get the feds involved
And I'm a reunite you wit yo moms
Rip
I guess this ain't juss music

'Cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless (n****)
And the b**** n**** knew this
That's why he tryed to sign me to g-unit
Tell 'em how you made me offers

(I don't want that blood I'mma godfather)
Jumped on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor
The feds I paid fo that

10 years up top
I sell 'em much shop
Both of ya was blood
Took the bus wit 'cause

Want gun for gun
I earned my lug
You, you just pathetic
You never B.G, bespite yo average

Take this mob s*** serioue, you gon' respect it
Tha's juss fo the record

[Hook]
And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart
'Cause it's a blood comin outta his slum
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life

When muhf***az ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like
It's my work by the surf when they turn off the light

Written by BARROW, JAMAAL / EDWARDS, LEROY / HUTCHINS, JALIL / SMITH, LAWRENCE / TYLER, MICHAEL
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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