I-20 - Rob The Robbers lyrics

[Hook] How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x4] [I-20] All black gloves, black mask, here we go again The traps goin' slow, so I'm kickin' n***as doors again Them p**y n***as soft, so the dealers goin' hard for it I'm off in the truck, call up Buck, he got the hard for it I got scopes on the AR, make it easy to just pop at you The first talkin' dope boy, then we hit to rob at you Won't hesitate to pull it out, empty out a clip Heard your partner got the cannons, so I'm tryin' to hit a lick I ain't got to contemplate it, see I'm down to demonstrate it I'm a DTP n***a, G-Unit affiliated Got a clique full of street n***as, ready for the sh** And a crib full of thick hoes, down for the joint Tell them pretty n***as, here we come Lay it down, G it up Extra clips, extra round, pick a clown, hit 'em Buck Hit 'em with that semi, or bust with that revolver How the hell you robbers, gonna rob a robber? [Hook] How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8] [Young Buck] Snatch n***as out their Chevies in traffic, I'm a savage The devil made me do it n***a, I gotta have it I'm hoppin' out this Escalade, chopper in my hand I catch the ones that I can, and start poppin' at they man They say the hood wanna k** me, the police want me locked up So I just take their j**elry, every time I pop up My album went platinum, and yeah, the n***a still jackin' I ain't lyin' or actin', it's just that I love it with a pa**ion You should these n***as faces with the .40's on they shorties Have they a** breakin' up like this dope game ain't for me (oh) So, come on p**y n***a, bring it if you that hard And watch when you come home, I'll be layin' in your backyard n***as turn to trackstars, runnin' when we comin' See, them beepers see me do it, but they don't know who done it Ay 20, make sure you tell that n***a Luda, I'm a shoota' So if he got a problem with them cowards, bring me through there [Hook] How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8] [Ludacris] .45 in the crevice of the 'Lac seat Hummin, comin' right at ya These hollows will make you think you at a track meet Boys hit the back street I'm ridin shotgun, with a shotgun p**y n***as hit the back seat Chickens wanna act sweet Cause of my candy-coated paint and size 24 shoes I call 'em Shaq's feet, rollin' 20 Lacs deep Whoever want it, we done it At 2100 Jack-U street So hide-ya hide-ya wallet-wallet Tuck-ya tuck-ya chain-chain I don't wanna, co*k-it co*k-it Chicka-chicka bang-bang Ain't no way to try to stop it, or numb the pain-pain Cause this ain't no muthaf**in video game-game But I can empty the cartridge, while you b**hin' and fussin' Grab the sticks of extra clips and press the reset bu*ton Put you on the front page of you the latest edition Tell the robbers I'm the greatest addition Motherf**er! [Hook] How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8]