Chucky Thompson - For the Record lyrics

Shyne ( for the record ) Where he at, where he at? Uhh (repeat 3x) [Verse 1] Do he rhyme with a slur from some shots in his face Or he rhyme with a slur tryna sound like Ma$e Listen to his tape, this lil' n***a used to sound like Case Maybe I'm juss trippin, maybe he juss snitchin See it a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton What I see is straight bird, straight girl Yea you be a k**a, if you could k** with words Gotta look at the facts and not the hype Like who got shot and who got knifed Who keep gettin struck, but don't never strike Hope the beef go away when the feds indict I know yo card n***a, it's so clear You just wanna sell records you don't want warfare You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide These n***as would've died if they shot me nine times Hey it's just for the record Take this mob sh** serious, please respect it [Hook] And there go the shots they rip 'em apart Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life When muhf**az ax me how I sleep at night Pretty good witta slug and my heat held tight Pray to God when I'm gone, this what he felt like Finish my work on this earth n***a turn off the lights [Verse 2] You ain't k** Hommo cause if you did Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit You know I know, that if you live That sh** that you spit, somebody got somebody Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut You a boxer n***a, nobody got snuffed Nobody got crushed, you screamin what what Okay k**a you is the s*ut Think about it, enough is enough Time to show who is who And what is what I mean how can I respect you When them n***as that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you (not 1 body) You know where they are, where they perform Bust yo gun, stop makin songs Please no more ghetto quran You got money now it's time to bomb And that's just for the time Take this mob sh** serious please respect it And there go the shots they rip 'em apart (2x) Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs [Verse 3] d**h of perfection as I move without motion Ain't a n***a in this game do the sh** that I'm quotin' Good look you'll never see another me Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me But I believe in the ways of old You slit a fools throat tryna tell on PO Rats shouldn't exist, f** a snitch Cut of his dick, put it on his lips You really think I was gon' let you slide f**in wit me you must be out yo mind You really think jail was gon' make thinks right n***a I'll hold shop till you lose yo life I was mindin' my own, word got back, n***as talkin bout PO I was like oh? God must be ready for this n***a to go Gangland, this is the mob You got yo break come finish the job Juss don't get the feds involved And I'mma reunite you with yo moms Rip I guess this ain't juss music Cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless (n***a) And the b**h n***a knew this That's why he tried to sign me to g-unit Tell 'em how you made me offers ( I don't run with that blood I'mma godfather) Loved on every street corner Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor The feds I paid for that 10 years up top Not 7 months shop Walked the yard with bloods Took the bus with cuffs Went gun for gun I earned my love You, you just pathetic You'll neva be a G, despite yo efforts Take this mob sh** serious, you gon' respect it Thats just fo the record [Hook] And there go the shots they rip 'em apart Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life When muhf**az ax me how I sleep at night Pretty good witta slug and my heat held tight Pray to God when I'm gone, is what he felt like Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights