DJ Clue ft. Memphis Bleek’s Thugged Out Shit Lyrics

Geah, What? Niggas Bleek, Duro We live Thugged out Marcy, Smoked out Yeah

Uh, yo, yo Im on now Therfore your ready rock Compare to this fishtale baggin rocks Now give me Bill Gates money A little strait money Big or small faces its been in all places I was schooled by them older guys They showed me how to drive these ??? Chop dueces and old rubers Have a nigga rocked up then knocked up Plenty y’all wit his chest out gettin stocked up We trade war stories back on the streets When we played em messhall Niggas get’em on his eats Im a foul little nigga, wild little nigga Dedicated to these streets a pump valve little nigga You hear about my wherabouts? Bitches I don’t care about Money Im a man about Drama Im a air it out Niggas hate Bleek cause I live right You’d love to see me broke frontin Wit no chips right?

CHORUS: 2x Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit?(what) Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit?(geah) Who want to hear some real live type shit?(huh) Who want it wit that oh, chest out shit?(what)

But this Bleek life my young niggas I tell ya I went from a failure, holdin paraphanalia Weight scales, twelve-twelves, dimes and fishtales Cooked up and bagged up My life was fucked up, but I looked at it this way If I dont make it this way, then im a do it this way Blaze my heat, while Im after them nickels Fuck six I chase nine fucken zeros Digits I got four of them, want five more of them Bitches when I told’em flies bring more of them I fuck’em never call’em,my dough must have spoiled em Nigga blew roll wit’em but now im ignoring them This street life kept Bleek tight with heat right On the ten-speed herbed up, nigga word up You saw me, but if not your man did I know I pull gats on y’all for crack shit Yeah uh-huh

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My niggaz roll dice in the back park We sip bacardi darked wit sprite all night Till the sky get bruised or thug nigga lose Pull out two-two’s only catch two, hundred Half the crowd skated ?when? which you wanted This nigga got shaky and panic when you fronted When he saw the black kron I thought the nigga wore a thong The way he froze his arm Dukes said its on He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw Took off half ass when the nigga spit more And we all spit game you niggas ?heard free? game By soft motherfuckers, you lame mothefuckers I fall, I get back To test my worth I tell heads to hit that, its raw get rid of that My worker take thirty off a bundle Dodging the bikers, and’em D’s When they rush the jungle So we stash in the fences Sit low on the benches Keep a small gun in case its on in the trenches Yo


We live For the thugged niggas, Marcy What? We out

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