SHYNE LYRICS - For The Record

"For The Record"



Pshhhh pshhhh

Uhh

[repeat 3x]



[Verse 1]

Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face

He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e

Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like cake

Maybe I'm juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin

See a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton

What I see is straight bug, straight girl

Yea he be a killa, you kill wit words

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 nigga, it's so clear

You juss wanna sell record you don't want warfare

You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide

These niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times

Heyy it's juss for the best

Take this mob shit serious, please respect it



[Hook]

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry

When they losin' their life

When muhfuckaz ask me how I sleep at night

Pretty good witta a slug and my heat held 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



[Verse 2]

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 shit that you spit, somebody got somebody

Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut

Yoo a boxer nigga, 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 niggaz 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 quran

You got money now it's time to bomb

And that's juss fo the top

Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it



And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart [2x]

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum



[Verse 3]

Death of perfection as I move witout motion

Ain't no nigga in his game doin the shit 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 niggaz throat tryna tell on po

That shouldn't excist, fuckin snitch

Cut of his dick, put it on his lips

You really think I was gon' let you slide

Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind

You really think jail was gon' make thinks right

Nigga I won't stop till you you lose yo life

I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po

I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go

Gang Land, this is the mob

You got yo break come finish yo job

Juss don't get the feds involved

And I'mma reunite you wit yo moms

Rip

I guess this ain't juss music

Cuz jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga)

And the bitch nigga 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)

Loved on every street corner

Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor

The feds I paid fo that

10 years up top

Not seven months shock

Walked the yard wit bloods

Took the bus wit cuz

Went gun fo gun

I earned my lug

You, you juss pathetic

You neva bg, bespite yo efforts

Take this mob shit serioue, you gon' respect it

Tha's juss fo the record



[Hook]

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry

When they losin' their life

When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night

Pretty good witta a slug and my heat held 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