Dmx - Shot Down lyrics

(feat. 50 Cent, Styles P) [DMX] Grrrr... ARF! ARF! [50 Cent] Move on over, I done told ya boyyyy I'm a G-Unit motherf**in soldier boyyyy And when you gon' get it in your brain The gate's wide open and the dog's off the chain I be that yung'n with that gun-ness, tellin ya stop frontin I be that yung'n on the run, after I pop some'n In the Bible I read, d**h is of the tongue And if you talk about d**h enough d**h is gon' come Dave taught me how to flow, they shot him in the head Randy a** was there, now he runnin scared Some say I'm gangsta, some say I'm craaazy If you ask me I'll say I'm what the hood made me Now I can stunt 'til my a** dead broke like J.D. Or put a hundred grand on e'ry n***a head that play me See I'm cool with them Hatian mob n***az To say "Sak pas?! map boul?" and rob n***az The media be tryin to make a n***a look bad, wha**up with that? See my flick, next to bring Papi and Cat And Montana, I k** 'em with the grammar I enhanced in the slammer after bangin them hammers X whattup? (AIGHT!!) [Chorus: 50 Cent] You don't live that, you shouldn't say that Cause what come out your mouth'll get you SHOT, DOWN Throwin your money around and we don't play that Get in our line'll get you SHOT, DOWN (n***a) We know where you hang, we know where you stay at That bullsh** you on'll get you SHOT, DOWN Here's a few clips that you shouldn't play with G-Unit, Ruff Ryders'll get you SHOT, DOWN [DMX] Aiyyo, f** y'all n***az talkin bout, think you playin wit? Double R, G-UNIT, the same ol' sh** (WHAT!) Put the f*ggots in the ring, watch 'em all quit All y'all n***az is p**y, s** my dick! Ain't nuttin but a handful of man still standin I remember 50 in a cypher when Onyx was "Slammin" (AIGHT?) Now we meet again, it's all good my n***a Back to the street again, it's all hood my n***a Knock on wood my n***a, we both walk the dog We ain't get to where we at by luck, sh** was hard (AIGHT?) But once we got through the trials it's all smiles 'til a big type n***a all of a sudden get wild Now why you gotsta go and take me back to where I came from? I'ma make you remember, where you know my name from (YEA!) 45th Street, and BLAOW-BLAOW Ave. I done ran through your crew and only let off half, n***a! [Chorus] [Styles P] Yeah, word, yeah If your head ain't offa your shoulders (uh-huh) You ain't get shot, you got nicked n***a (just nicked) Cause if my chrome hit a piece of your bone It's gon' do more than chip, n***a (a lot more than that) Yea, what the f** is the problem The Porsche is red the buckets is Army 30 shot handguns the gutter is starvin (yea) n***az like me might rush your apartment (word) Bloodstains'll f** up your carpet, brain on the window I smell murder every time that the wind blow Tie him to the chair and then knock out his chinbone I don't want the throne or the crown, I ain't sellin up You can have the jail or the ground, you ain't in hell enough I'm the one that flood the gutters Better tap your man, and let him know P'll love to cut his And n***az is gettin shot down, two guns up Double R, S.P. holdin D Block down [Chorus]