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The Last Song Pt. 2 - Dj jewels Baby Lyrics

By: Admin | Artist: D dj jewels baby | Published: 2024-25-09T07:26:54:00+07:00

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[intro: big tone]
yeah
[?] this one, can’t go [?]
this how we do!
tone, let’s go!

[verse 1: big tone]
imagine what it took, scrambling with crooks
writing raps with a crack [?] cooked in the hood
i took the d and trapped in a book, gave rap a different look
graphic as it looks, casper’s getting shocked, shaken
lottery pick, first take i lebron james it
do a track, write a rap, and spit a hook dangerous
coppers laugh, bring it back and get it cooked famous
this crook language (yeah) my slang is praised
but ’em [butch masters bust?] daily
and bad boys follow my lead, i’m chuck daly, but i can bust baileys
what or ifs ands, i sit back with ’em big cats, brick slabbed
in the six cab, slipped past
and this cat with the big swagger, george jefferson stеpping
call hart, kev with a weapon, repping
wastе a youth and still connect with 7…mile
the ol’ english “d”, i rep my session proud
money over hoes, money know the ropes
and know it’s role, tryna get money is a money overdose
yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
[refrain: 87]
oh 7, oh 7, oh

[verse 2: 87]
excuse me lady it’s your boy young 80
nope i don’t trick, uh uh, not jay*z
nah slow up b*tch i’m not him
i spit a hood at [?] you a rap soft rim
i cut coke with such precession
bust ’em like martha stewart up in the kitchen
tote big cannons that’ll stop your living
this is how i was raised, p*ssed*poor without a pot to p*ss in
rob your ass like “thank’s for giving” (very much)
throw up a peace sign like “save the children”
had a nice lil run, now your reign is over
catch you at a light and sn*tch you out your rover
what the f*ck you fronting for n*gga, you ain’t no soilder
detroit n*ggas got big guns [?]
so please believe that we was after the cheese dawg
after the dough we was after the skrilla, police in 5 states still after this n*gga
disease of this rap sh*t, i’m cancerous n*gga
somebody calm me down before i cancel this n*gga

[verse 3: remember]
yo big jewels, is ill sh*t that i done is all paid off
n*gga’s shoes ain’t big enough to fill prints when i step off
a house and many things was bumping in cash that i made all
chosen videos, baby in vogue ’cause i came off
remember [?] a smirk on my face when i let off
know this sh*t is heated, scatter your brains like a sawed off
n*ggas fight like a [?] waiting for the stars set off
you’re wrong, f*ck with me and poss’ and your flesh’ll get blowed off
for real, y’all rowdy handling things when it pop off
body bags, i be fed, sh*tting in bags ’cause he showed off
while he’s waiting anxiously for n*ggas like me to get dropped off
his store’s at sam goody’s [?] n*ggas yell “back off!”
a born star, platinum hits is the sh*t that i eat off
[?] that’s what i live off
lifestyle is rude, embarrass a n*gga, say “f*ck off!”
y’all better get this d*ck [or dunk on the stage and got throwned up?]
[verse 4: lo louis]
big fella we will squash your ass
[?] with the monster mash
you get chopped in half then plopped in bags
put out on the curb with the rest of the trash
just ask for them n*ggas in the cartier glasses
not the ones twisted up with the [b*lls/bars?] all backwards
but the ones tinted up rubbing my eyelashes
giving girls hot flashes fast, that’s how we get ’em
cartier i wear with diamonds in ’em
the finest women, i’m just tryna jizzle ’em
no time for wine and dining with ’em
i just knew this day would come from day 1
when i was young i used to have big dreams
one day i’d be a big fella doing big things
lo louis, and if you got a problem with you
i got something that’ll shut up the critics, y’all can get it

[verse 5: guilty simpson]
i tote mac 10s, ‘cause i’m like parcels
man i need that win but i don’t need that [?]
i remember beat street watching lee backspin
now the year’s ’04, and detroit back, in affect
on a friday, i take your check
on the highway, i race your ‘vet
do what i say or pay direct
i even cruise by your video and spray your set
and murder the extras with an all black heckler
man, i’m pro*gun and a pro*fessional when i choose to hold one
man, screw your verses, this russian roulette
with automatic guns, guy you go first
i’m large like a sumo shirt
fed up with you pseudo*jerks that don’t do no work
and while you in your little circle sayin’ rhymes
don’t ask me to spit, ‘cause i ain’t got time! what!
[refrain: marv won]
jewels! jewels!
the sh*t was nice man but it was missing one thing
it was missing marv won from the world*famous fat k!llahz (b*tch shut up)
that’s all you need, that’s all you need! (‘fore i k!ll you n*gga)
…and about 4 other n*ggas (i’m gangsta)
but me? but me?
i gotta be on this b*tch
that’s what i do n*gga (fat k!llahz n*gga)

[verse 6: marv won]
yeah i keep a smith & wesson l!ck tec and steel
so when i say i got a contract for you i ain’t talking ’bout a record deal
man i’m talking about that paper that’ll get you k!lled
with n*ggas in my hood trying to bring me home your neck and grill
peep game, these thangs release flames
leak your brains, leave your ass deceased mane
no questions with a gun i’m so [heston?]
i’m a star man, i should’ve been on pro wrestling
any thug you know, please go get them!
so i can blow they asses into sp*ce like george jetson
or captain kirk, these gat’s squirt
i’ll clap a jerk, introduce his back to dirt
f*ck you trying to fight? you can die tonight
i been here before, i used to be willie dynamite
marvin won, the n*gga you quoting
and the reason your ass is sleeping with one eye open, b*tch

[refrain: proof]
i’m used to being with players that be on the real battlefield
so f*ck with y’all n*ggas, come home jewels

[verse 7: proof]
ayo it’s proof b*tch, rush you like
bust through your crew and smack them loose lips (b*tch!)
you see me in the club then you walk out quick sir!
always won and marshall faulk ass n*gga
you the type to make hits and get d*ck by suge
when i’m in zone, i shuffle in your face like
everything about you weak, get your body beat
and sit your sorry ass on the side with rodney p
you not as sweet as you think, with the boring raps
i run through your weak ass lines, i’m warren sapp
you sound like al capone when you rap, oh you love movies
b*tch i be in the game for a while like doug flutie
or testaverde m*th*f*cka i bless you early
nothing to do with a [migraine/mike green?] when i hit your chest with 30
my mere presence will make your sweat you hard
’cause my firearm known to throw bullets like brett favre, m*th*f*cka

[refrain: proof & ty farris]
ayo it’s like this [?] y’all n*ggas playing [?] in 2004
me and my i.f. n*ggas [?] in 2004, right (they mad!)
[?] trying to get this m*th*f*cking cream n*gga [?]

[verse 8: ty farris]
listen when that pistol blow
it’ll kiss you like you under a mistletoe, pop your ’til your gristle show
it’s nothing ’cause my gun game is crazed
it ain’t a hairstyle when that pump in your waves, listen
know the procedure when i run up on you clowns
put your hands up, like referees after touchdowns
come on your block with guns and start squeezing
so many bl**dy shirts it’ll look like a blood meeting
there’s 4 options if i beef with a n*gga
coffin, casket, urn or the bottom of a river
i love when nas but when that chrome spark
it’ll shoot the guts out of any braveheart, come on
i spill like a dart in dark with no heart
and my gun full of sh*t, in your face where it fart, listen
you don’t want part, you know you ain’t thug
the only time you hard when you leave out of titty club, m*th*f*ckas

[refrain: ty farris & mu]
yeah, purple gang
yo, whatupdoe

[verse 9: mu]
what in the world would possess you to test mu?
when i’m done, i’ll make you say i’m the wrong n*gga to step to
i come to your job and molest you, wanna bet? you
the only reason you rhyming right now is because i let you
wanna win? you got better chances winnin’ the lotto’
‘cause your rhymes ain’t worth the [?] prize off of a pop bottle (b*tch!)
i took your confidence when you first came in
i beat your ass while surfing in the middle of a hang ten
you can’t win! how many different ways i have to say that sh*t in?
known for bone breakin’ before satan committed a sin
battlin’ me is worse than going to the pen with your hands taped to your shins
with a note sayin’ hours are from now until then, listen
i gives a d*mn if you rhyme decent
give me one reason i turn you [deep?] into a self destruct sequence, see
you the type of n*gga to talk sh*t about me
but you probably couldn’t sell one unit on a double lp
rappin’ about the money ‘cause your friends are wealthy
not saying i know, but they tell me your live show is l.d
so keep my name outta your mouth
and stay the f*ck from the front of my house, before i blow your sh*t out, b*tch!

[verse 10: journalist 103]
i’m on the whole ‘nother level before you try to step to this
detroit all*start you best make a deal with the devil
because i ain’t spitting nothing but flammable gasses
with a mixture of lava and a pitcher of battery acid
i’m a lyrical dragon so f*ck when i fly through
i’m merciless with them hot lines, that’s how i scorch you
n*gga be for real
the animalz have entered the building with a prime objective, with nothing to k!ll
you lack lyrical sk!ll
i put you on the same plane as a fat chick, something i refuse to feel
so f*ck getting a deal, you really need an alternative
before my alter ego kicks in and beats you merciless

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