Boyz N Da Hood Lyrics

Overview / Lyrics (see all) / Photos / Videos / News

Bitches & Bizness Lyrics

from Boyz N da Hood

"Bitches & Bizness" is track #9 on the album Boyz N da Hood. It was written by Miguel Scott;chadron Moore;jacoby White;lee Dixon;jay Jenkins;william Roberts Ii.
Edit
"Bitches & Bizness" is track #9 on the album Boyz N da Hood. It was written by Miguel Scott;chadron Moore;jacoby White;lee Dixon;jay Jenkins;william Roberts Ii.
For Example...
What chart rank did the song debut? What is the song about? Has it won any awards?, etc.
Cancel Submit
Thank You For Your Submission
Your introduction will appear once it has been deemed awesome by our team of wizards.
  • Play Video
  • Correct
  • Print

Bitches & Bizness Submit Correct Lyrics

Submit Corrections Cancel

We gone do it like this
From the A-T-L
All the way down to the 305 MIA
Cocaine capital, nigga
Yeah, the Boyz N Da Hood

The bizness is bitches
The pussy I keep in my pocket
The niggas keep watchin'
They know I'll be rockin' my watches

G's keep knockin'
They know I'll be shootin' to spot 'em
The Boyz N Da Hood
Strictly distribute the product

My niggas get slizzard
I'm smokin' and chillin' in Pradas
Fuck a 9 to 5
We gone just do what we gotta

I'm in the Chevy thang
Everything runnin' is proper
Don't come to close
'Cuz I'm subject to [Incomprehensible] my chopper

We in the streets, in the streets
Who got the weed, got the weed
I got a couple keys
Wanna eat, fuck wit me

You don't want to see me pissed off, yeah
Fuck until my dicks off, Boyz N Da Hood
Nigga, this is riff ruff

Now I rock a lot of ice 'cuz I'm keepin' it slum
Six lugs at the bottom, lockin', keep 'em in tone
Crack rock cocaine, what we keep where I'm from
You don't believe me, nigga, come and see where I'm from

Keep 2 or 3 heaters dug deep in my bum
The police tryin' to keep the concrete on my palm
But I got shit to do
And I got bricks to move, okay

But y'all are playin' for 4 mil
You can get for 2 nigga and try to play me dude
And I'm gone put yo ass in some baby shoes
And I don't mean the ones that your babies use

I know I talk about my niggas a lot
But I shoot too
Give me something to nut up about
And watch me shoot you

I woke about 6 in the mornin'
Gotta get paid, fuck moanin' and groanin'
Hit the block, get the truck rollin', rollin'
By the night time our pockets is swollen, swollen

I woke about 6 in the mornin'
Gotta get paid, fuck moanin' and groanin'
Hit the block, get the truck rollin', rollin'
By the night time our pockets is swollen, swollen

From dust to dawn, we stay posted up in project homes
Keep a plastic tone, y'all want it bring it on
We'll creep up in yo home, hangin' by yo bitches thongs
Say you's a gorilla, say what happened to King Kong

We real play makers and this is not ESPN
Welcome to the gutter, now watch the shit fest begin
Ain't no fuckin' Jack Triple but I'm bakin' cakes
Plus my cakes triple, what that fag makes

Fuckin' just to stay awake, makin' sure I never stumble
Granted till my bank statement look like social security numbers
Call us cookie monsters, makin' cookie niggas crumble
Catch a double digit jersey number if you fumble

I'm gone tote the poll lock and load
Shoot till you hear that bow
Take my time, speak my mind like I'm [Incomprehensible]
Got a country slang, baby, you can tell, ain't it

You can kill too, a lot of us got them feds at us
Still keep a stankin' kitchen
'Cuz in the midst of the caine
On the way, the crack smell durin' the intermission

Triple beam hand held hanksty
Got some caine stain colored on the finger nail
Chrome black dished back up til I [Incomprehensible]
Saw him walk a thin line but it's not a fat red

I'm gone rap for these packed heads
Gats crack, sells sex and blacks that want to stack mils
Smokin' on the purple stack
Runnin' in yo house ramblin' wondering where the work is at

Hoes in the third, still hollerin' where the purses at
Phone in Atlanta, ring the family where they murked at
6:45 am, life's great, got the bacon soda
I'm cookin' pancakes, that's right

Where I'm from nigga, I'm the man
Take him out, break him down like a lap dance
I ain't playin', I got hella choppers
Call my partnas then they got helicopters, that's right
Just like my old job but a lil' different, what

I used to work at churches chicken
But now I cook my chicken to my own kitchen
A kitchen fork and a glass pocket
Try to rob if you want get ya ass shot

I woke about 6 in the mornin'
Gotta get paid, fuck moanin' and groanin'
Hit the block, get the truck rollin', rollin'
By the night time our pockets is swollen, swollen

I woke about 6 in the mornin'
Gotta get paid, fuck moanin' and groanin'
Hit the block, get the truck rollin', rollin'
By the night time our pockets is swollen, swollen

Songwriters
Miguel Scott;Chadron Moore;Jacoby White;Lee Dixon;Jay Jenkins;William Roberts Ii

Published by
REGINA'S SON MUSIC;FIRST AND GOLD PUBLISHING;BULLHOUSE PUBLISHING;YOUNG JEEZY MUSIC;SLIDE THAT MUSIC;EMI APRIL MUSIC, INC.;EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.;GRIFFIN GA FINEST

Listen to Boyz N Da Hood Radio on Last.fm, Radio.com or Jango

Latest News