I-20 Ft young Buck how the hell Lyrics

How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x4]

All black, gloves black, mask, here we go again,
The traps goin' slow, so I'm kickin' n____s doors again,
Them p____ n____s soft, so the dealers goin' hard for it,
I'm off in the truck, call up Buck, he got the hard for it,
I got scopes on the AR, make it easy to just pop at you,
The first talkin' dope boy, then we hit to rob at you,
Won't hesitate to pull it out, empty out a clip,
Heard your partner got the cannons, so I'm tryin' to hit a lick,
I ain't got to contemplate it, see I'm down to demonstrate it,
I'm a DTP n____, G-Unit affiliated,
Got a clique full of street n____s, ready for the s___, and
A crib full of thick hoes, down for the joint,
Tell them pretty n____s, here we come,
Lay it down, G it up,
Extra clips, extra round, pick a clown, hit 'em Buck
Hit 'em with that semi, or bust with that revolver,
How the hell you robbers, gonna rob a robber?

How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8]

[Young Buck]
s_____ n____s out their Chevys, in traffic, I'm a savage,
The devil made me do it n____, I gotta have it,
I'm hoppin' out this Escalade, chopper in my hand,
I catch the ones that I can, and start poppin' at they man,
They say the hood wanna kill me, the police want me locked up,
So I just take their jewelry, everytime I pop up,
My album went platinum, and yeah, the n____ still jackin',
I ain't lyin' or actin', it's just that I love it with a passion,
You should these n____s faces with the .40's on they shorties,
Have they a__ breakin' up like this dope game ain't for me (oh), so,
Come on p____ n____, bring it if you that hard,
And watch when you come home, I'll be layin' in your backyard,
n____s turn to trackstars, runnin' when we comin',
See, them beepers see me do it, but they don't know who done it,
Ay 20, make sure you tell that n____ Luda, I'm a shoota',
So if he got a problem with them cowards, bring me through there

How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8]

.45 in the crevice of the Lac seat
Hummin, comin' right at ya,
These hollows will make you think you at a track meet,
Boys hit the back street,
I'm ridin shotgun, with a shotgun,
p____ n____s hit the back seat,
Chickens wanna act sweet,
'Cause of my candy-coated paint and size 24 shoes,
I call 'em Shaq's feet,
Rollin' 20 Lacs deep,
Whoever want it, we done it,
At 2100 Jack-U street,
So hide ya-hide ya wallet-wallet,
tuck ya-tuck ya chain-chain,
I don't wanna, c___ it-c___ it,
chicka-chicka bang bang,
Ain't no way to try to stop it, or numb the pain-pain,
'Cause this ain't no m____fuckin videogame-game,
But I can empty the cartridge, while you b____in' and fussin',
Grab the sticks of extra clips and press the reset b___on,
Put you on the front page of you the latest edition,
Tell the robbers I'm the greatest addition, m____fuckaaa,

How the hell you robbers gonna rob a robber? [x8]

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