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letra de midwest destroyerz - bukshot

[intro: bukshot]
midwest destroyerz
bukshot, ruff sude playaz (louisville, kentucky)
bake, c-motherf-cking-dog (jeffersonville, indiana)
ak, tre-shot, mr. black diamond (rocksville, indianapolis, nap)
siccness, carlos rossi, redrum (gary, cincinnati, ohio)
sang, short capone (cleveland)
misery, sinn, murder one (chicago, illinois)
k!lla-o, ibg (saint louis, missouri)
low lifes, big shawn (nashville, tennessee)
n-do, o.d. (memphis)
gangsta black, trig

[verse 1: bukshot]
take a look into this hood cause we grinding the most
it’s the midwest b-tch f-ck claiming a coast
dope dealers crossing bridges with work in they britches
the land of f-cking b-tches, the land of k!lling snitches
opportunities knock (knock), from serving fiends with rocks (rocks)
to spilling blood on the block (block)
from pumps to glocks (glocks)
surrounded by cops (cops), we open fire like mobsters
bet you better tell ’em ’bout us midwest monsters

[verse 2]
attested, attasted, seventeen shots from a fully mean automatic ruff sides trigger men
victim and dead it’s over
coming for ya
four deep misbehaving in a locced out nova (fill of nail)
creepers, bed-seekers, pin ya down like tag-team
sights with blue-red beams
breaking down zones on my triple beam
money and the power (money, power)
duct-taped him in his bas-m-nt
popped him in his knees, leave our gs with murder cases
[verse 3]
can’t n0body f-ck with a real n-gga hustling
i mean a n-gga about his dollars, i don’t give a f-ck about nothing
it’s a fact of life a n-gga that’s squeezing a motherf-cking .45
best time to catch a n-gga slipping when he close his eyes
anybody try that funny sh-t i’ll betray, lay ya down
watch me unload a whole f-cking clip ‘out the slightest f-cking sound
why i’m paranoid all the time with this smoke, got me tripping
cause in this type of bi’ness everybody tryna catch a n-gga slipping
jealous n-ggas and b-tches and b-tches up in some plain clothes
i’m constantly watching my back but it’s just how the game goes
life move f-cking fast, i can’t trust no-f-cking-body
my girl can’t get too close i think that b-tch is tryna rob me

[verse 4]
one, two, three, i’m a motherf-cking g
strapped down, mask down
.45 caliber desert eagle
leaving bodies first gon’ feel that pump-pump
putting dead bodies in a 6-4 trunk
blaze big blunts since j. stubbs
don’t beg for your life player cause i don’t give a f-ck about bucking you
your baby mama too, and plus your two kids
i know you got them keys, show me to the safe cause i ain’t got long to live (uh)

[verse 5]
loving one since a juvenile as i run through the foul
i see the stress i put my family through but look at me now
convicted felon at large on a motherf-cking rampage
i’m still selling dope and rides around with the sk
i’m busting at my rivals man, f-ck the penitentiary
cause when i go down, i’m going down on these inner streets
a born and raised lunatic, convict murder man
when them underground n-ggas the f-cking law those who don’t understand
[verse 6: bukshot]
execution on yo knees, you dealing with the realest
gangster tactics living bad
law-breaking heartless chitlins
thugs stepping packing weapons, attacking like a shark
but you’ll never see us coming cause we lurking in the dark
on the streets of j.c. me to the depths of the field
mobbing with them ruff side playas (yeah), these intentions to k!ll
anybody trying to get they hands on my pot
but i baked that motherf-cker and the baker says you got

[verse 7]
move with me and move with me
i don’t want the key
move a man
b-tch you need to relax, a hundred stacks on these
motherf-ck the law
i’d love to see ’em beg (i’d love to see ’em beg)
two to the head, died a b-tch behind your backs
drag my nuts to the feds
a fake 12’s coming up
yeah i know you’re mad i got your son buying double-ux
mini-macs and pumps
chopping halves on my razor blade
ruff side player too as i
f-ck the judge cause he’s b-tch made (b-tch made)
[verse 8]
creeped in they back door slow with the motherf-cking .44
caught him slipping while he was f-cking and put his brains all over his hoe and hit the flo’ (pop take that b-tch)
cause she had the strap (ah sh-t) and the b-tch started blasting at me
stuffed her face into his other wounds and cuff her fingers cause she tried to gat me
grabbed her by her hair (shh)
and tugged as she lived cause she started showing
where the f-ck the three key and fifty gs was cause i knew he was rolling
did it smooth and still cut her throat just for the simple fact, destroying’s part of the pleasure
tripping off blue gel and cognac

[verse 9]
watch me pistol-whip yo kids cause you f-cking with some k!llers (k!lla)
looking for yo partner, he’s in the bottom of the river (river)
concrete shoes cut off if that duty there
i screaming like a b-tch man
burnt ’em with them newports while buk split him with the switchblade
money-made, hit the safe (n-gga), black mask over my face
leather gloves and hollow tips, just another murder case
sucking on some steel (steel)
try saws in yo grill (grill)
ace high, ruff side on the real, the real

[verse 10]
m-i-d west, you better wear yo vest
coming through
what the f-ck you gon’ do when ruff side, who?
ride, homicide as i slide to the right hand lane (lane)
leaving brains, bl–dy windowpanes (panes)
cause things ain’t never gon’ change
busting people f-cking in the game out of seven-nine
caprice two-toned, rings blown
sum up your lot cause i had to get mine
murder sh-t that i wrote (uh), pump you up like toke
and leave you bl–dy in a ditch with your tongue hanging out yo throat

[verse 11]
i got my black mask down
popping around thug, living night i puts in my time
always on the grind n-gga drug dealing
mama tried to tell me (tell me) that there’s a better way (a better way)
but all my bills i pay (pay), and mama i ain’t work today
never trust no b-tch, ruff side my n-gga
real n-ggas stay sl!ck, tight for life
not like you b-tch n-ggas, how can you stop us? (stop us)
midwest representing (midwest)
a-12 soldier (a-12 solider), deep in the game is how i’m living (deep in the game)

[verse 12: bukshot]
grab yo shot, load yo clip
back-to-back, close yo eyes
take temptations, turn around and watch me grin before you die
when it’s over, it’s over
i disrespect by p-ssing on yo tombstone
hit yo crib, take yo dough, f-ck yo b-tch and then i’m gone
which one of you motherf-ckers wanna dance with me?
bad boys move in packs but we move silently
checkmate motherf-ckers, you put me to the test
cause there’s one second left for the time bomb on my chest

- bukshot

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