Top Songs By DJ Kay Slay
Rolling 50 Deep (feat. Sheek Louch, Styles P, Benny the Butcher, Bun B, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, AZ, Papoose, Ransom, Memphis Bleek, Billy Danze, Lil Fame, Dave East, 3D Natee, Joell Ortiz, Saigon, Mistah F.A.B., Chris Rivers, Jon Connor, Twista, E-40, Nino Man, Shoota, Mysonne, Sauce Money, Ice-T, Trick Trick, Rj Payne, E-A-Ski, Fred the Godson, Loaded Lux, Termanology, Young Noble, EDI, Locksmith, Cassidy, Maino, Vado, Rockness, DJ Paul, Mc Gruff, Stan Spit, Uncle Murda, Cory Gunz, Melle Mel, Grandmaster Caz, Trae tha Truth, Bynoe, Hocus 45th & Royce da 5'9)DJ Kay Slay
Similar Songs
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
K. Grayson
Songwriter
Lyrics
Yo-yo-yo
What the poppin' man
This the Drama King man
Yo who there, who dat, who there man?
(Yeah, yeah, it's fifty Cent)
Mutha (what's up man)
Uh, Harlem to Queens mutha
(Heh, what's up)
And I'll smack the out your favorite DJ man
Y'all know what the it is man (yeah, yeah)
(And, and say somethin ya)
Yeah, street justice
(Yeah, go ahead, say something)
Yo, yo, check it out fifty
You handle the
I'mma handle the DJ
(Alright, alright)
We gon' bring justice to the game
(That's how we gon' put it down)
Straight mutha
That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang
That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang
Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya
See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya
Say a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge
I'm finna put a shell in a head
I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it
The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it
Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot
They say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe
My cousin Uzi out in L.A done tripped and do the sets again
Got shot the up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans
I write my lifestyle, y'all fool is cheaters
Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva
Oh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher
If you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?
If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya
This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya
Problem child, I'm familiar with problems
I know how to solve em
Semi-automatically or tray-eight, revolve 'em
Shoot em up, rob em
In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems
Problem child
And why can't you be man enough
To tell me where you're comin' from
They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life
I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice
I'm nice, y'all can't hang wit fifty
Blaaat, y'all can't bang wit fifty
For every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine
For every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed
See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course
You can check C-N-N for the "War Report"
See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie
Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati
Man, my hommies ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti
I'll do it myself, I don't need no help
Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully
Give me a minute, I'll take a car with a pully
See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young
Jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one
Problem child, I'm familiar with problems
I know how to solve em
Semi-automatically or tray-eight, revolve 'em
Shoot em up, rob em
In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems
Problem child
And why can't you be man enough
To tell me where you're comin' from
I must have broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven
Cuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven
This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path
The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass
I got "God Understand Me" tattooed in my skin
When I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again
I'm the young buck that let the gun buck
Roll the window down and say: "'Wassup", get ready to duck
My heart is a house homie, If you don't live here
Believe me when I say I don't care
Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons
Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings
See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'
Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon
If you I'mma smell you when you come around here
Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier
Problem child, I'm familiar with problems
I know how to solve em
Semi-automatically or tray-eight, revolve 'em
Shoot em up, rob em
In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems
Problem child
Writer(s): Curtis Jackson, James Brown, Lyn Collins
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