Boo-yaa t.r.i.b.e. - Riot pump

Uh, riot pump, riot pump
Uh, riot pump
Uh, let's get this shit crackin' man

Verse 1:
This that gun in the spine (spine)
This that one of a kind (kind)
This that get out the way, straight to the front of the line
If they front on the line, then pull the bouncer aside (come here)
Tell him to be happy he's even around or alive (be happy)
Like “Look pal, you decide, you get me up in for sure” (What)
Or listen, 10 minutes I'll be bumrushin' the door (Move)
He won't front anymore, get in pass wit' a frown
Like you bastards is clowns, know you ain't pattin' me down
Shit, look here, I'm a star (star)
I don't care who you are
Push your way through, move, tear up the bar (Get out my way)
Snatch a bottle, crack and gargle, mack a model
Tell the bartender you're dead, that's how I do
Then grab on a slut, ask her to smut
Put alcohol on her like a barber after a cut
Yup (Yup)
No smoke then inhale the smoke ‘til you choke
Walk through the VIP, knock down the velvet rope
Foreman the place, your dog is a 8
To plex the pest, and A-Town Stomp wit' his face, holla

Clap ya thing, act insane, riot pump
Snatch a chain, slap a dame, riot pump
This that time for crunk, try to punk
How you want, body slumped by the dump
Let me see you riot pump

Verse 2:
Listen dog, I'm a vet' (vet')
Show the boss some respect
If you glittering nigga (what)
Then it's off wit' ya neck (come here)
I'm a boss on the Set
That'll let off with the Tech
Pushes that soft off of some steps
Better yet, torture to death (Whoa)
Punk even try it, slugs'll get fired
Dump on the chump and make his car slump to the tire (tires)
The whole jumper get quiet
Fire once, fuck a riot pump dog
I'ma bring the pump to the riot (Bang)
Porsche skip through, toss missiles
Bring the war to the war
For through your gore
Smell what the door sizzle
You're soft tissue
You don't know what it feels for a cop to horse-kick you
Straight up toss, flip you
Mace in your face, left when the shotty ring
Spray up the place, left in a body sling
Laced up in lace, yes, with some body string
Leave you facin' ya face messed up like Rodney King's


Verse 3:
Yo, is it a game, nope (nope)
We got aim scopes (scopes)
The last head frontin' with bread became toast
We run right into clubs, snub under the raincoat
Shoot a cat for his chain and call it chain-smoke
Fuck with J you gon' pay
Make the stray hit the spray
You will stay where you stay
Ay you'll lay where you may
With the A to the K, run in a DJ booth
You gon' play what you play
No, you gon' play what I say
Play, or fine, get that gun, it's fine
I'll bet he stop and play Stop-N-Go 100 times
Not the talkin' type, I done been all my life
So after rap, scrap, let's see you start a fight
Got guns, go get ‘em, got sons, go get ‘em
Chump, if ya mans wanna run, go wit' him
Cuz if I don't let the gun blow hit ‘em (What)
I'ma throw his ass in a mud hole and stomp a mudhole in him, holla


Writers: John Robert King , Michael S. Simpson , PAUL DEVOUX , DANNY V. DEVOUX

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind