Yukmouth - Regime k**ers 2001 lyrics

( CHORUS ) I got some k**ers on the payroll, and they know When it's time to handle business, n***a, lay low ( Phats Bossi ) Money to double, still in the struggle, stuck to my hustle We all fight back like maniacs with broke knuckles It's mo' trouble cause now we seein you n***as Paint a vivid-a** picture, Boss spittin the scriptures n***a, I'm Bossi, Bosslin done turned to cash fiend I straight pop codeine and drink gasoline What what, I'm too sick for y'all Tatted with dragons till I fall, givin dick to y'all In this pitfall I'm on the grind for mine My people choose a life of crime, pistol-pushin with nines On the payroll, apply the pressure when we say so My troops turn wacko, shoot through your backdo' My life real, seen a man die slow And I still can't sleep, sweatin bullets fo' sho' So don't push me, Boss is one tough cookie My team Regime, pumpin them shots out a hooptie ( Mad Max ) Who down to rock with the murder plot of a cop k**er Drop n***as, spillin they brains, rollin with hot n***as Rot with a club to your face for tryin to rock with us Straight up, get razorblade-cut for f**in with us Regime superiors, Max Ju spit rhymes, strip mine interior Rippin your sh** imperial, k** n***as' material My whole crew ain't fearin ya, Mad Max the High Priest I got some real k**er muthaf**as behind me And I be obviously on top of things With the Regime I'm too clean, make it a murder scene Glocks and murder beam, n***as ain't never heard of me Burnin em to the third degree, leavin n***as in the infirmary Wait for recoupin, still choosin your brain, stupid The Dragon recruited real n***as for thug music So peep game and next time you speak my name Be prepared for incoming from the heat of the flame Regime ( CHORUS ) ( Tech N9ne ) Regime k**er number one, I'm back up in this b**h with Yukmeez On the payroll so I spray those foes, make you get on your knees For the pesos Tech N9na???? great holes with these You stay yellin you'se a merely k**er for the cheese, n***a please Awfully sick, he tryin to f**, so off with his dick Can't floss and he blitzed, molotow in his lips Tossin his dick in a box of chocolates and walk in his ship Talk to his b**h and whisper (he loved you) softer to kiss (He bows down) You get???? N9ne???? (We wild now) You wanna rewind mine, I'm prime time Qwest Records tryin to hold a n***a back So I???? Saafir and tellin me???? get his sh** back Off with their heads, let them hang high Caught in their beds, let it???? die Tech Neen, I'm a fiend for strings by Mike Dean For the green I damage spleens, then I scream "Regime!" ( Poppa LQ ) Let's take a out-of-town trip with a thousand crips With a thousand A.K.'s and a thousand clips No 50 Cent can come to Cali and rob nobody Cause gees catch and send his a** back a cold body Young guns'll lay ya down regardless who you are sh**, we make a livin out of extortin you stars Robbin you for your j**elry, snatchin you out your cars Poverty's a plague, I rob before I beg But you don't expect me to score, times are hard You're broke but you're scared to steal and break a law You need not worry 'bout me, I live it raw A hustler with a cause, flippin paper, gotta ball I had to crawl before I walked but now I'm standin tall on em Lookin down on em, 'bout to drop my balls on em It's time for platinum minin, military grindin Right when these s**ers???? start declinin ( Governor Matic ) Yuk threw me on part 2 Regime Brick City n***as mobbin when we come through n***a, the Governor got it sowed up, spots get blowed up Funk Doc, Diesel Don, yo, them n***as even showed up As I rolled up, the nine Glock get load up For the hold-up, the new hundreds we fold up Confiscate d**, n***as' mouths get taped up Kids get draped up and b**h up-slapped the make up Then I take up all clothes, j**els and paper You got 'cash money', but you don't wanna run the safe, ha? n***a, don't play dumb, I'm steady gettin money from those that hold up Used to drink weed tea, now my sh** robust Now hold up, car patrolled up It was 12 Outsidaz in a two-door Toyota We splatter brains over crack c**aine In the court we still came to pay Judge Mills Lane n***a, it's not a question My uzi weighs a ton, 'll have you undressin Like you was strippin down on Western k**ers on the payroll, pockets stay swoll Hearts stay cold, that's why we's on payroll ( CHORUS ) Regime Life, n***as Thug rituals Regime Life Thug Lord Regime Life, n***a ( Yukmouth ) Now where them toy soldiers at? There they go, right chea Get them b**hes, k** them n***as, there they go, watch it Where them toy soldiers at? There they go, right chea Keep them b**hes, k** them n***as, there they go, watch it Get that bitin-a** rapper, wanna-be actor Fake non-playin Basketball n***a that got dropped from the Raptors I spit in your face and slap ya, boy With a .38 kidnap ya, boy Ductape and wrap ya, boy ???? and flash ya, boy Lascerate and trash ya, boy Mash ya, boy, I hate Master P like Pastor Troy Shame on that n***a for tryin to steal a name from a n***a Ice Cream Man put flames to a n***a I figured by now that n***a done been broke off some scrilla for stealin that sh** But until then I'm k**in that b**h All you got is Snoop Dogg and Mystikal in your click And all them other muthaf**as are like Mystikal-in your click You're still in this sh**, "f** Yuk, I ain't feelin his sh**' But f** you too, you fell off and I'm still in this b**h Willing to rip the f**in head off a villain that's sick My raps burn like ghonorrhea, need penicillin to spit The Thug Lord, Ayatollah, fire the flame Rappers tired in the game, make em retire again f** gold, f** platinum, n***a, I did that sh** In '95 and '96, so what you did ain't sh** n***as go triple platinum, n***a, do some amazin sh** Some eyebrow-risin sh** and quit hatin, ya b**h How the f** you a mack when you beat down hoes? At videos give a bad-a** b**h a bloody nose n***a, the studio in compton I put you on in '84 You was a crackhead in dirty-a** clothes with dopefiend flows Broke muthaf**a out livin on skid row n***a, you from L.A., you ain't even from the Big O This year them b**h-a** n***as gon' get theirs You swingin from my balls, why you down there smell my dick hairs Ya b**h And Dru Down, the real Mack of the Year, ya b**h-a** n***a Longevity that, huh b**h ( CHORUS ) Regime Life, n***a Ya b**h!