Soulja Slim Motha Fuck You Lyrics


Ah-ah, Cut Throat to the motherfucking

Bone gristle, you understand me

Fuck another nigga, fuck em


Motherfuck you, and your niggas

Cause me and my niggas, we terrorize niggas

Motherfuck you, and your niggas

Cause me and my niggas, we ride or die niggas

[Soulja Slim]

I spray gats like raid, when the roaches come out

You wanna fuck with the team, then the coaches come out

Holes in your mouth, bullets leaving holes in your house

Ice block so cold, niggas catching a gout

Set I trends, fucking two cat eyed friends

Getting brain in the back, of the cat-eyed Benz

Black eyed lens, looking like M-I-B

When I be, stomping through your VIP

H.N.I.C., represent that MP3

Fuck you, you ain’t getting nothing from me

But hot lead to your dome, black thick and chrome

That’s all I tote, sticky-ayo that’s all I smoke

Now there I go rambling, but I could back it up fast

Catch you in the club, I scuffle your bitch ass

Brigadors be down to die for me, soldiers be down to ride for me

Bistanders do get hit, no apologies

[Hook x2]


Now when the 4-4’s, come out

You’d think your whole click was Ludacris, the way they rolling out

It’s Curren$y the Hot Spitter, I control the South

Look at who I be around, then you’ll know what I’m bout

Brah you don’t want me, to come through

Cause one pop out the glock, I’ll leave your fat head with a sun roof

Please understand me, brah when my album drop

Me and C-Murder, bringing guns to the Grammy’s

Hoes loving on me, so these niggas can’t stand me

But they know I got the heat, like Miami

Hot Spitter got loot, growing like mildew

That with the cameras, instead of the rearview

Hit you point blank range, I ain’t even near you

My niggas ain’t from Pittsburgh, but we’ll steal you

Riding on chrome, all 21 and up

Yours under 18, can’t even get in the club so

[Hook x2]


Murder instincts we speaking, tweaking

And leave a nigga, leaking on the concrete

You run up with cowards, all I got is one nigga behind me

At a time to cover my back, and other than that

Ain’t too many niggas, gon cover my tracks

So I feed him, with a long handle

Man I’m in the desert, and surviving is a strong gandle

So I can’t be walking, in the wrong sandles

Feeling like all I got, is me myself and I

Don’t know too many, that I can leave my wealth and die

Empty, cause I know that drama will only increase

And who’s gonna carry me, when I’m trapped under them bed sheets

Sealing the sheets with hot blood, niggas steady saying they got love

And I’m the one laying with hot slugs, shit I’ve been there

And any nigga that I fuck with, is just like me

So when we beefing, that’s the nigga you just might see

But everybody claiming know 12, saying we blow wells

And how I hung with him, but can’t say what I done with him

[Hook x4]