Top Songs By Memphis Bleek
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Memphis Bleek
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Memphis Bleek
Composer
Robert "Shim" Kirkland
Composer
Renee Scroggins
Composer
Valerie Scroggins
Composer
Shawn Carter
Composer
G. Grainger
Composer
J. Lloyd
Composer
Eric Johnson
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Shim
Producer
E Bass
Producer
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Recording Engineer
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
1, 2 y'all, you know I rock ya
Step in the rounds of the Roc mafia
1, 2 y'all, you know I stop ya
Dirty get low, ****, we gotcha
[Verse 2]
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 3]
I tote P-89's on me all the time
My rhymes is serious, I kill 'em e'ry time
While I'm sunk in that 745-I.L.
Feel like a jet when I ride
So much grind, ****, feel me on cruise control
Game tight, ****, lose your ho
[Verse 4]
I smoke, take a few pulls of the reefer
Ridin' under the tint, doin' the deuce fever
Need some, so I check the beeper
Before Big passed, he passed the number to Katrina
[Verse 5]
Get it right, the game still remain
And I'm married to the shit, you **** still engaged
Nothin' change, twelve gauge still pop
If you **** wanna jump at the Roc
We can come with your block, if you want to
[Verse 6]
Yeah, Ease the same
I bet it all on dice so I could freeze the chain
(Now that's game)
All you hoes is a show
(Your truck come with a chauffeur?)
Mine for sure
You know Ease the truth, they say sex is a weapon
You'll be dead when I shoot
[Verse 7]
1, 2 y'all, you know I rock ya
Step in the rounds of the Roc mafia
1, 2 y'all, you know I stop ya
Dirty Get Low, ****, we gotcha
[Verse 8]
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 9]
It's Get Low and the Roc, ain't a clique out touchin' 'em
Dough doublin', bitch **** not discussin' 'em
Block tick rabbit when I'm finger fuckin' 'em
Fuck a vest, tell your boys, have a bullet proof truck with 'em
It's Geda K, the young horse
And M. Ease, of course we gettin' cheese
Draw, we don't squeeze
And S.U.V's on two-fours, with T.V.'s
Probably with your bitch, playin' the backseat
[Verse 10]
And you know I hit it, ain't the type to chill with it
Type to get rid of and never go to the crib with her
Shit, I move according to plans and still visit
Park and still kick it, and pick my **** up
And you know we be dro smokin', tokin', locin'
Live from B-R-O-Oklyn
Bitch, it's Get low, let me know what's up
If you get in the truck, get in position to fuck
I'm ghetto, Errol Flynn, hot like heroin
Young pimps thoroing, I pimp through their boroughs in
Y'all better keep your chicks intact
'Cause I talk like a pimp, talk like a mack
[Verse 11]
1, 2 y'all, you know I rock ya
Step in the rounds of the Roc mafia
1, 2 y'all, you know I stop ya
Dirty Get Low, ****, we gotcha
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 12]
Yo, yo, code name Cease A Le, crack on the A-V-E
BK grimmey, M.C., rap wreck machine
My **** on the scene with the machine gun
The infrared beams
Hand guns with silencers, ride up on the side of ya
Flash this gun up in your face like photographers
Play the hood with ice, ain't nobody robbin' us
When it come to rappin', ain't nobody stoppin' us, dog
[Verse 13]
It's Roc mafia, who live as us?
Jay ridin' on side, Big on top of us
Get Low firing, my Phillie ****, ride with us
Dutch this blunt up if you wanna get high with us
BK, yo, we reppin', I'm like cash
Everywhere I'm accepted
From Marcy to Stuy, the West to the Chi
I keep it all hood tell the day that I die
[Verse 14]
1, 2 y'all, you know I rock ya
Step in the rounds of the Roc mafia
1, 2 y'all, you know I stop ya (Get Low)
Dirty Get Low, ****, we gotcha
[Verse 15]
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh (I'm dancin')
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 16]
Rap's in trouble, HOV about to double back in
And lock the streets again, ain't no policing him
Got cops on the payroll, killers on the lay low
**** be careful what you sayin' on the radio
I Nextel radio ****, have 'em at the radio
Before you exhale, ****
The cat's out the bag, but blast out the mag
Send 'em words back in your mouth out your ass
[Verse 17]
Talkin' shit, all you get is cleaned the fuck up
I ain't steamed the fuck up either
Hire the team of me, myself, and Irene
I come through and lean you fucker
I'm tryin' to keep **** from killin' you
You still talkin' shit to me
You not as smart as you appear to be
I got dum-dums for dumb dumbs
[Verse 18]
I'm a right man, got educated
Left hook in a right hand
Fuck like, whoa, got a flow like damn
The new Thug Life be the Roc-A-Fella fam
No disrespected intended
But if you offended, can't take it back
Handle your business
I'm just statin' facts, the whole world's against us
And we will not surrender, and we will survive
Turn out your lights like Teddy Pender-grass
Get ready for the coldest winter as I proceed
[Verse 19]
Yeah, yeah, yeah
1, 2 y'all, you know I rock ya
Step in the rounds of the Roc mafia
1, 2 y'all, you know I stop ya
Dirty Get Low, ****, we gotcha
[Verse 20]
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
1, 2 y'all, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Written by: Eric Johnson, G. Grainger, J. Lloyd, Malik Cox, Renee Scroggins, Robert "Shim" Kirkland, Shawn Carter, Valerie Scroggins