Try Ya Ya Ya Lyrics

from Digi Snacks

"Try Ya Ya Ya" is track #10 on the album Digi Snacks. It was written by David Rose;che Pope;robert Diggs.
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"Try Ya Ya Ya" is track #10 on the album Digi Snacks. It was written by David Rose;che Pope;robert Diggs.
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Try ya ya ya, ay ya ya ya
Try ya ya ya, ay ya ya ya
Try ya ya ya, ay ya ya ya
Try ya ya ya

You can't do me nothin, you won't succeed
Youre movin fast, reduce your speed
Weak producers imitate my beat
When they face me, make 'em kiss my feet

You can't break me, you get deflected
Can't remake me, already perfected
Wu-Tang slang to disrespect it
Your heart get pierced from hard darts ejected

I walk with a pocket computer, out talk the prosecutor
Slipped through these metal detectors with plastic German luggers
With all rubber bullets, my dogs, they love to pull it
Stay black hooded, dunn, Timberland footed

Deadly dialect, Digitech, I'm six steps ahead
Spread like plague, plus I wire tapped the feds
Brain wave manipulation, radios in my head
Sip Colloidal silver, immune cells get fed

Deflectin viruses, I'm overcomin biases
True lion of Judah bout to reclaim the lioness
Devil expiration date, time to set the nation straight
You should pay attention to the words I articulate

You wanna do me? You won't succeed
Youre movin fast, reduce your speed
Weak producers to imitate my beat
When they face me, make 'em kiss my feet

You can't break me, you get deflected
Can't remake me, already perfected
Wu-Tang slang to disrespect it
Your heart get pierced from hard darts ejected

Goodie goodie, I walk it out in the hoodie
And let my shoulder lean, just some gangsta boogie
Try ya ya ya, ay ya ya ya

You now rockin with the best, Compton's finest with finesse
By the dress code and approach, you can tell I bang the left
West Side of the coast, everybody's cutthroat
Bitches love to start shit, they also love to deep throat

Three wheel and hundred spokes, while I'm blowin chronic smoke
Turnin corner after corner, with my Southern Cal folk
But the underground in the city life, it ain't a playground
I'm loyal, dedicated, always ready to throw down

My morals and my values, reach high up on the Richter
Speak this vivid so you clearly get the picture
And description of a real one, standin in your mist
I don't just talk, I walk this Killa Cal shit

Footprints of a legend as a I paint the concrete
King of the jungle, still no one can compete
With my entourage, call your squad, I checkmate 'em with a pawn
Seven moves ahead to off your head, it won't take that long

You wanna do me? You won't succeed
Youre movin fast, reduce your speed
Weak producers to imitate my beat
When they face me, make 'em kiss my feet

You can't break me, you get deflected
Can't remake me, already perfected
Wu-Tang slang to disrespect it
Your heart get pierced from hard darts ejected

Try ya ya ya, ay ya ya ya
Try ya ya ya
Try ya ya ya

Songwriters
David Rose;Che Pope;Robert Diggs

Published by
RAMECCA PUBLISHING, INC.;UNIVERSAL MUSIC-CAREERS

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