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letra de body snatchaz - bukshot

[intro: bukshot]
this is bukshot the mobstyle assassin with hostile, n-do, and dom p from straight legz clique. if you f-ck up, your body’s getting sn-tched up. you better tell somebody. (somebody)

[verse 1: bukshot]
bukshot the body sn-tcher bringing drama like an actor
trespassing in my grass, get you mowed like a tractor
chopped down like a crip, k!lled like a blood
i mean swimming in my water, get you drowned like a flood
never gave a f-ck about a hater judging me (uh uh)
as you can see, them motherf-ckers ain’t budging me
so what? tonight we dance ’til the weakest man falls
come and get some if you want it, i’m screaming “f-ck ’em all” (f-ck ’em all)
where’s yo nuts at? b-tch-made victims rest in p-ss
my little red dot guarantees i don’t miss
hollow tips i spit’ll make yo chest feel like sh-t
when they hit your life gets off quicker than a cl-t
calling 5-8-2, clue labeled you as a snitch
hustle hating on the phone got you put in a ditch
as i leave this place with a grin on my face
no witness (witness), no weapon (no weapon), no k!lla (k!lla), no case (no case)

[chorus: bukshot, dom p, hostil]
it’s body sn-tchaz like us who put the hood on the map
this real sh-t, won’t quit ’til they stop making straps
it’s body sn-tchaz like this who makes the world go round
and real sh-t never stopped you, two be dead on the ground
[verse 2: hostil]
i heard your bushes shaking
who’s ’bout it? many player hate
they want my skrilla, and the world is k!ller
but in sin, they after satan
f-ck debate, bury them under the bushes
picking up that uzi like a mammy, on my enemy
several bullet holes is when i’m with k!ller gs
f-ck around with me, i’ma have to bleed ya
life as a hater riding up fatal, jealousy
the world don’t need ya
live or die, i strap chrome in the folds
dead bodies of rivals are told, coming sideways ’til the grind folds
i keeps hitting, too realer for n-ggas to be bullsh-tting
black team when i was spitting
n-ggas die daily on the third rock from the sun
big cali, dj breakout, catching g, una rosa alcove
jump to the vibe in the wicked street
soldiers bled the sheet, these new ways have got me packing heat
no lie, guerrilla warfare
in the last days n0body cares about your healthcare

[chorus: bukshot, dom p, hostil]
it’s body sn-tchaz like us who put the hood on the map
this real sh-t, won’t quit ’til they stop making straps
it’s body sn-tchaz like this who makes the world go round
and real sh-t never stopped you, two be dead on the ground
[verse 3: n-do]
still breathing in shock
i done went hard, full of revenge
tonight is midnight, dressed in black again with an extra chopper
an ak to make it fill up in shots
dipping bullets in chyme
double just to leave you extra hot
and win player, i got ogs that’s slaying in tree and bushes
ready to rush it, touch it and bust a young punk
you’s a cold chump, walk around with a chip on your shoulder
i got n-ggas that’ll hold you in the trunk
and my clique stays ready for fetty
ride around in drop-top acting duffy, rentals, estrogen chevy’s
quit all yo hating, eight years i’ve waiting to make a statement
since you was trying to take it, i’ve been in your hood hibernating if i don’t make it
and i got to see my lord and beholder and fall to the floor
ask for forgiveness and still won’t draw my blood
then do dirt, put in work, have cheese to make bail
get yo block, say “what’s cracking?” dope sales and weed smell
then it’s all action, on the street as we keep packing and cash sn-tching
watch out for 2-0-1 gs, don’t always smash it

[chorus: bukshot, dom p, hostil]
it’s body sn-tchaz like us who put the hood on the map
this real sh-t, won’t quit ’til they stop making straps
it’s body sn-tchaz like this who makes the world go round
and real sh-t never stopped you, two be dead on the ground
[verse 4: dom p]
we sn-tch ’em up
take this body bag and wrap ’em up
if anybody witness this, the sh-t we did
load up the gats and clap ’em up
holy mackerel, these k!llers ain’t playing, they spitting shrapnel
straight at your noggin’ leaving holes in your toboggan
death is actually a survival tactic for me
n-ggas drop as casualties instead of going naturally
who got my back but me?
and a strap causing catastrophe
he’s known the blasphemy, so f-ck the world it’s only mac and me
tonights forecast calls for lead showers
and when it rains it pours
it’s a name on the bullet, and look, it’s yours
the money, the power, the chronic, the wh0res
the picture of your face on a milk carton in every store
mia used to be mvp
you only got a single shot away, i l!cked off three
times three plus three for even trying to bust me
no need to reload, just toss you in a trunk that’s rusty, it’s dom p

[outro: bukshot]
you better tell somebody

- bukshot

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