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Niggas Bleed Lyrics

from Life After Death

"Niggas Bleed" is track #12 on the album Life After Death. It was written by Broady, Carlos / Wallace, Christopher / Combs, Sean / Myrick, Nashiem.
"Niggas Bleed" is track #12 on the album Life After Death. It was written by Broady, Carlos / Wallace, Christopher / Combs, Sean / Myrick, Nashiem.

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Today's agenda, got the suitcase up in the Sentra
Go to room 112, tell 'em Blanco sent you
Feel the strangest, if no money exchanges
I got these kids in Ranges, to leave them niggas brainless

All they tote is stainless, you just remain as
Calm as possible, make the deal go through
If not, here's 12 shots, we know how you do
Please make your killings clean, slugs up in between

They eyes, like 'True Lies', kill 'em and flee the scene
Just bring back the coke or the cream
Or else, your life is on the shelf, we mean this Frank
Them cats we fuckin' wit put bombs in yo' moms gas tank

Let's get this money baby, they shady, we get shady
Dress up like ladies and burn 'em with dirty 380's
Then they come to kill our babies, that's all out
I got gats that blow the wall out, clear the mall out

Fuck the fallout, word to Stretch I bet they pussy
The seven digits push me, fuckin' real, here's the deal
I got a hundred bricks, fourteen-five a piece
Enough to cop a six, buy the house on the beach

Supply the peeps with Jeeps, brick apiece, capiche?
Everybody gettin' cream no one considered them leech
Think about it now, that's damn near one-point-five
I kill 'em all I'll be set for life, Frank pay attention

These motherfuckers is henchmen, renegades
If you die they still get paid, extra probably
Fuck a robbery, I'm the boss, promise you won't rob 'em, I promise
But of course you know I had my fingers crossed

Niggas bleed just like us
Picture me bein' scared of a nigga
That breathe the same air as me
Niggas bleed just like us
Picture me bein' shook we can both pull burners
Make the motherfuckin' beef cook

Niggas bleed just like us
Picture a nigga hidin', my life in that man hands
While he just decidin'
Niggas bleed just like us
I'd rather go toe to toe with all of y'all
Runnin' ain't in my protocol

Since it's on, I call my nigga Arizona Ron
From Tuscon, pushed the black Yukon
Usually had the slow grooves on, mostly rock the Isley
Stupid as a young 'un, chose not the moves wisely

Sharper with game, him and his crooks, called The Juxs
Heard it was sweet, 'bout three-fifty a piece
Ron bought a truck, two bricks laid in the cut
His peeps got bucked, got locked the fuck up

That's when Ron vanished, came back, speakin' Spanish
Lavish habits, two rings, twenty carats
Here's a criminal, nigga made America's Most
Killed his baby, mother, brother, slit his throat

The nigga got bagged with the toast
Weeded, took it to trial, beat it
Now he feel he undefeated, he mean it
Nothing to lose, tattooed around his gun wounds

Everything to gain, embedded in his brain
And me I feel the same for this money and diamonds
Specially if my daughter cryin', I ain't lyin'
Y'all know the science

Niggas bleed just like us
Picture me bein' scared of a nigga
That breathe the same air as me
Niggas bleed just like us
Picture me bein' shook we can both pull burners
Make the motherfuckin' beef cook

Niggas bleed just like us
Picture a nigga hidin' my life in that man hands
While he just decidin'
Niggas bleed just like us
I'd rather go toe to toe with all of y'all
Runnin' ain't in my protocol

We agreed to go on shootin' is silly
Because niggas could be hidin' in showers with Mac-Milli's
So I freaked 'em, the telly manager was Puerto Rican
Gloria, from Astoria, I went to war with her

Peeps in ninety-one, stole a gun from my workers
And they took drugs, they tried to jerk us
We blazed they place, long story, Glo' sent my face
Got shook, thought a nigga was comin' for the safe

Now she breakin', shut up, 112, what's shakin'?
A Jamaican, some bitches I swear, they look gay
In a black Range Rover, been outside all day
If it's trouble let me know, I'll be on my way

Please, I got kids to feed, I done seen you make niggas bleed
Nightmare, this bitch don't need it
Ron, get the gasoline, this spot, we 'bout to blow this
Get the cash before the cops and Range Rover cats notice

Room 112, right by the staircase, perfect place
When they evacuate, they meet they fate
Ron pass the gasoline, the nigga passed me kerosene
Fuck it, it's flammable, my hunger is unexplainable

Strike the match, just what I expected
The dread kid ejected in seconds
And here come two, opposite sexes, one black, one Malaysian
We in the hallway waitin' patient

As soon as she hit the door we start blastin'
I saw her brains hit the floor, Ron laughin', I swear to God
I hit Maxi Priest at least twelve times in the chest
Spit around, shot the chink in the breast

She cryin', head shots put her to rest
Pop open the briefcases, nothin but Franklin faces
The spot's hot, sprinklers, alarm systems
That's when other guests start to slip in

It's time for us to get to dippin'
I know them niggas in the Range is on they way up
Flippin', pistol grippin', I load the clip in
The hallway, got real loud and crowded

They walked right past us, I don't know how they allowed it
The funny thing about it, through all the excitement
They Range got towed, they double parked by a hydrant
Stupid motherfuckers

Songwriters
BROADY, CARLOS / WALLACE, CHRISTOPHER / COMBS, SEAN / MYRICK, NASHIEM

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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