Letras Jealousy - Kurupt, Roscoe, M.O.P.

Jealousy

Man, «Ante Up"nigga\nMake these niggaz kick in, punk-ass niggaz BANG on 'em\nSheeeit… gotta get on these\nFrontin, funny, funny-ass niggaz\nI can see it, youse a jealous, motherfucker\nIt ain’t really nuttin you can tell us, motherfucker\nLook me in my eyes you pathetic, motherfucker\nCause shit only happens if you let it, motherfucker\nYou out to get a grip but you’re doin the wrong shit\nTo get a grip you burn your bridge and sink ships motherfucker\nFuckin 'round here might get you chipped, motherfucker\nThe homies hittin lick after lick, motherfucker\nThe Crisis Center was just invaded\nNiggaz talkin 'bout Kurupt switched and traded\nPeople talkin 'bout they don’t like me no mo', I lost my flow\nThey liked me better on «Stranded on Death Row»\nGangbanging’s a terrorist act, like whatever we do\nthey gon' lock us up wherever the terrorists at\nThey so-called RICO act, applaud and clap\nCause they applaud when niggaz get clapped, but look\nI can see it, youse a jealous, motherfucker\nIt ain’t really nuttin you can tell us, motherfucker\nPeep out the streets, you can’t move without heat\nTo keep your empire imperial\nFrom Pakistan to imperial, imperial mindframe\nMust center your circle, the circle, of your center\nWisdom must control it’s outer, and it’s inner\nI got a small message for you funny-ass niggaz look\nYoung whippersnapper, dippin in my Acura\nFor the young pistol packers, clip-slapper, click-clacker\nChip-stacker, whip-jacker, crib-crashed, kidnapper\nWig-basher, rib-cracker, ditch-digger, ditch a nigga\nBitch nigga, y’all the ones that switched nigga\nSo fuck y’all, now it’s guns and clips nigga\nAnd y’all don’t see it, you fuckin with the wrong two\nWe movin units and you just been fuckin with the wrong crew\nAnd I can see it, youse a envious motherfucker\nMy enemy motherfucker not no friend to me, no kin to me\nSo it’s simple don’t be tryin to pretend to be motherfucker\nRepercussions consequences and penalties motherfucker\nI ain’t never a punk, my beretta’s in the trunk\nSo whenever when it, jump, I’ll be the first to dump\nParanoid, I can’t walk to the curb without my tec\nAnd it’s so many murders that I regret, from jealous-ass niggaz\nYo, yo, it’s the M dot O dot P, motherfucker\nThe K-U, R-U-P-T, motherfucker\nChin check nigga, it’s 'bout to get hectic\nTo all race and creeds, foreign or domestic (M.O.P. nigga)\nNow, tell me, if you wanna ride\nIn the backseat of a Caddy, brought you to a side\nThink it over for what it’s worth\nBefore you get yo' ass tossed into the big black earth\nOh! Live from the 'Ville, it’s your boy Bill Digga\nNigga will you get the fuck back 'fore we kill ya\nY’all know what’s up, we doin it with Kurupt\nThe flow slow disco, nigga let’s go\nWe put it down like, sound like (NOW LET’S RIDE ON OUT)\nStill shake the ground like (NOW LET’S RIDE ON OUT)\nWhen there’s a conversation about O.G.'s\nMake sure you motherfuckers remember the M.O.-P's