Lirik Lagu Sammy Da Bull (feat. Nate Dogg, Swifty McVay (D12)) - Proof
X
TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
[Chorus: Nate Dogg]All these niggaz talkin 'bout what they gon' killHeard you caught a misdemeanor then I heard you squealHoldin hands with the D.A. while you made your dealThree thousand miles away and I could hear you stillHalf these niggaz snitchin yo and that's for realI know it's hard to swallow, that's a big ol' pillIf I catch you motherfuckers you gon' catch some steelI know it might sound crazy, that's the way I feel
[Proof]Uhh, trace this to it's basis, no movie scriptNo yay, no pounds, no uzi clipsNot a car, no bling, know a bougie bitchYou got all of these rappers sayin they movin bricksThey whole cliques switch with boob and titsIf you're - truly bitch, then they'll - usually snitchIn a roundabout way I say my toolies spitBut if it come to coppin a plea, it includes the fifth!The mood is flipped cause spirits see the diaphragmsGangsta rappers with murderers for hired handsPolice and riot vans, callin us pirate clansGovernment guide hands, with private plansTo damage the game, it's a shame to survive a scamCause we high off liquor, bitches and VicadinYell out we gon' strike again, so triflinGot kids idlin the vest to riflin (look Ma!)Why you make a fake life in pens?Glorify the hood but never a Bible hymnAnd as the streets keep tyin inUntil the Feds indict the fans just for buyin in, where's the violin?
[Chorus]
[Swifty McVay]Hah, are you the guy that told the guy that I'm the guy that gave the guya half a P; now the police is after meAskin me questions, tellin me shit you only knewPulled up on me out the blue, all this shit because of youWatch to do somethin cool bitch, snitchin like Samuel BullNow yo' life's fucked up, and I'm announcin you responsibleAnd I'm cut the fuck up, and whatchu gonna do but sit yo' ass thereSo what? Ain't nothin fairWhen a nigga like you get carried away without your lipsAnd they wonderin why Swifty McVay be killin shit {AHH!}I drop you off and get lost, come back the same daywitcho' tongue cut off nigga, it's cursed anywayYou the one who can't count, so give my G's up (straight up)And when it comes to shootin you the one who freeze upThat's why yo' broke ass could swallow these nutsand folks ask, tryna follow everything that reads upon your report you made, I will escort you to your graveTryna see me behind bars so you can get paid?That's negative, you threaten my life? I CAN'T let you liveThen you think that it'll catch up to your momma and your kids snitch {AHH!}
[Chorus]
[Proof]If you aim for slugs that's blazed by killersNow the game done changed these niggaz out here praisin squealersGo Proof - my behavior's iller when tellin the truthExpunge my gun nigga like any paid felon'll doMy spoken is well in the truth, you in hell and the ProofFrom the block to the jail or the boothBod boy image shall illuminate in silenceGangsta, one that communicates through violenceGo Proof - not through yappin or hostile rappinAll on TV vest up and glocks go flashinIt's all actin - y'all justdon't see the director behind the camera that yells out "Action" (take one!)Blowin off the door hinge to a world in orbitWhere the masses have supportive recorded performanceThere's enormous shortage of poor kidswith new deals, they will become distorted and torturedAnd I ain't losin like 'Pac, there's rules on my blockI'm from Detroit bitch, it ain't cool to be shot [gunshots]
(Is he still alive?)(Yeah yeah, I think so)(Alright great, let's sign him!)
[Chorus]
[Outro: Proof]Heh, aiyyo dig thisIf you tell the masses, you tell the copsBut if that street yappin made you famous, then you a starStar; hey, write down "star"Write down "star" on a piece of paperHold it up in front of you, right in the mirrorPut it in the mirrorHold it up in front of you, and that's YOUWe don't like you [laughs]Holla at me, fix it faggots..
[Proof]Uhh, trace this to it's basis, no movie scriptNo yay, no pounds, no uzi clipsNot a car, no bling, know a bougie bitchYou got all of these rappers sayin they movin bricksThey whole cliques switch with boob and titsIf you're - truly bitch, then they'll - usually snitchIn a roundabout way I say my toolies spitBut if it come to coppin a plea, it includes the fifth!The mood is flipped cause spirits see the diaphragmsGangsta rappers with murderers for hired handsPolice and riot vans, callin us pirate clansGovernment guide hands, with private plansTo damage the game, it's a shame to survive a scamCause we high off liquor, bitches and VicadinYell out we gon' strike again, so triflinGot kids idlin the vest to riflin (look Ma!)Why you make a fake life in pens?Glorify the hood but never a Bible hymnAnd as the streets keep tyin inUntil the Feds indict the fans just for buyin in, where's the violin?
[Chorus]
[Swifty McVay]Hah, are you the guy that told the guy that I'm the guy that gave the guya half a P; now the police is after meAskin me questions, tellin me shit you only knewPulled up on me out the blue, all this shit because of youWatch to do somethin cool bitch, snitchin like Samuel BullNow yo' life's fucked up, and I'm announcin you responsibleAnd I'm cut the fuck up, and whatchu gonna do but sit yo' ass thereSo what? Ain't nothin fairWhen a nigga like you get carried away without your lipsAnd they wonderin why Swifty McVay be killin shit {AHH!}I drop you off and get lost, come back the same daywitcho' tongue cut off nigga, it's cursed anywayYou the one who can't count, so give my G's up (straight up)And when it comes to shootin you the one who freeze upThat's why yo' broke ass could swallow these nutsand folks ask, tryna follow everything that reads upon your report you made, I will escort you to your graveTryna see me behind bars so you can get paid?That's negative, you threaten my life? I CAN'T let you liveThen you think that it'll catch up to your momma and your kids snitch {AHH!}
[Chorus]
[Proof]If you aim for slugs that's blazed by killersNow the game done changed these niggaz out here praisin squealersGo Proof - my behavior's iller when tellin the truthExpunge my gun nigga like any paid felon'll doMy spoken is well in the truth, you in hell and the ProofFrom the block to the jail or the boothBod boy image shall illuminate in silenceGangsta, one that communicates through violenceGo Proof - not through yappin or hostile rappinAll on TV vest up and glocks go flashinIt's all actin - y'all justdon't see the director behind the camera that yells out "Action" (take one!)Blowin off the door hinge to a world in orbitWhere the masses have supportive recorded performanceThere's enormous shortage of poor kidswith new deals, they will become distorted and torturedAnd I ain't losin like 'Pac, there's rules on my blockI'm from Detroit bitch, it ain't cool to be shot [gunshots]
(Is he still alive?)(Yeah yeah, I think so)(Alright great, let's sign him!)
[Chorus]
[Outro: Proof]Heh, aiyyo dig thisIf you tell the masses, you tell the copsBut if that street yappin made you famous, then you a starStar; hey, write down "star"Write down "star" on a piece of paperHold it up in front of you, right in the mirrorPut it in the mirrorHold it up in front of you, and that's YOUWe don't like you [laughs]Holla at me, fix it faggots..
