YOUNG SWOOP G - Not To Be Fucked With (Ryder Version) lyrics

[Swoop talking]

Damn.

Where my grandmas at?

Let me find my ski mask.

Got my gat.

Can't let these niggas see my face so they get no finger prints.

Oh here we go.

Let's roll.

We on another mission.

[Verse 1 ]

Catch me in the streets, wit out no heat you better blast

cuz if I catch you in traffic I'm dumpin' slugs at yo ass

there ain't no stoppin'

I'm poppin' til I release the 16

keep one in the chamber, pop in another clip and release

the murder scene is trauma cuz I done handled the drama

now I'm off to dump this strap off at my mama's

I get another one of them 24 years 2-1

it ain't no problem cuz the homies got a gang of guns

and I'm constantly puttin' it down for the side where it's at

it's the land of big ballers in stillar hats

we stay heated

so make like Michael Jackson mutha fucka juss beat it

repeat it once again to let you niggas know I mean it

to slap you across the head cuz you ain't leavin'

look what you did

(gasp)

now your whole family creepin'

I got the skills to peel

a gang of enemies to kill

another bad drug deal there be some shootin' at the hill

they tryin' to kill us

but this time, them niggas didn't get us

fuckin' wit them baby locs, we ride wit young hittas

niggas figure that they can catch a nigga up in traffic

but pull up on me

I'm peelin' niggas caps backwards

that nizine, that you was pullin' out yo waist line

you used to work it fine, but didn't make it this time

cuz I'm.

[Chorus x2]

Not To Be Fucked Wit, fucked wit

dippin' in my bucket

servin' cocaine to them cluckers

and I, keeps my strap, keeps my strap

always

keeps my strap.

[Verse 2]

Lookin' out yo window all you gonna see is us young niggas ridin'

Eastsidin' it

survivin' wit 3 strikes

livin' the life of some youngstas livin' plush

eighteens on my Benz

gold D's on my bucket

makin' these duckets to lease

hoes can the Datsun

I got 4 bad different bitches where I can get my nuts licked

at yours too

but the difference between me and you is she gonna rob yo bitch ass as

soon as she get through nigga

to bring yo cash to me

yo stash to me

it's all gonna be for me

that nigga wanted the hunney

bitch all I want is the money

and she brings it to me my nigga, juss like that

and after 2 or a few times I give a lil sumpthin' back

this game is to be sold

not to be told

fuckin' wit the G, I tear you a new asshole

so watch yo liver

a shit bag is what I deliver

fuckin' wit this baby locster and nigga I'm a hit her

and I'm.

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3]

I serve 'em up like a loc

and hope this 2-0

nigga you know, I'm finna rip ride the most

cuz Vine to Vine I blast through the Woods of Ingle

lay down all yo family, kinfolks, and people

from the Hoobangin' Young Swoop

yes, yes ya'll

saggin' down to my drawls

my set on the wall

I had to slow my roll to get in the rap business

but I'm ridin' on fools livin' wit this mill ticket

you shoulda stayed down

and you woulda got a mill ticket

(Swoop what's up wit that nigga Daz loc?)

I don't know?

To be exact

I didn't think Daz was fuckin' wit the wack

and he know it's like that on the Eastside where we bang at

so tell me, is D-A-Z a rida?

Hella nah, that nigga Daz ain't a rida (ah ha!)

I'm from Eastside Longbeach to the Westside of Inglewood

never, unless there's tradgedy, from bringin' terror

so once upon a time, in the early stages of my life

met a busta named Kurupt

at Lou Zinger High

put his ass in a dance from the way I do my thang

on the mic he displayed it

came from Philly to LA

I been all over

from Crenshaw to the 60's camp

on the 100 an nathin'

wit Big D only strapped

it's all about mashin' (mashin', mashin')

stashin' heat

if these fools run up, we some blasters

sayin' I'm not to be fucked wit

hit the corner on yo ass in a bucket

I'm untouchable

unhittable

that niggas un-fuck-witable

but they claim they gonna get me though

unforgivable

when I pull this trigger slow

as ya'll watch muder shows

starring this baby loc

walk up on you wit this uzi, I swear juss like a movie

only one of ya'll homies done did somethin' to me

when I'm ridin', seems like the only way to try

dumpin out the bullets like 10's far from the eye

put dirt on me, murder me

now it's time to meet your maker

NAS move to LA and watch these "Street Dreams" take ya

fuckin' wit me, rollin' up the bomb, bomb weed

dippin' in somethin classic from the early 60's

straight G's

Eastside this

we ride this

take it for what it is, I'm Not To Be Fucked Wit.

[Chorus x2]