Daz Dillinger – Hit The Floor lyrics

We came in the door, said it before West Side, East Side when we hit the floor Got the paper for sure, got chronic galore And the ho's keep beggin' us to blow some more Money makes the world stay up (that's right) Fiends to hook us up on the late night hype G's flips on the corner while we chill in the club Short skirts put in work, straight show you love You know the title Heavy weight nigga with the green, everybody know the spot One times ain't hot Gots the bomb Everybody tell your friends C-P-T and the L-be back again Bring your heat Eiht and Daz with the paper One time won't be gafflin for the caper Can't see me Two black niggas from the West Decide where they hoo-ride, two of the best No contest C-P-T so get it straight why'all don't know the program, switches on my Brougham Skates to the L-be , three wheel motion C-P-T chill with G's right next to the ocean We came in the door, said it before West Side, East Side when we hit the floor Got the paper fo' sho' got chronic galore And the ho's keep beggin' us to blow some more We too rough, we too tough And the niggas that I hang with is just too much And we'll fuck you up When we acting up Dat Nigga Daz and Eiht straight fucking shit up Swervin' down the block as my system knock Niggas take what you got, get trip, you get shot Come through like we usually do for you and who Draped in blue Nuthin' but riders in my crew Throwing it up Mad dog, all in my cup Smokin' blunt after blunt ready to fuck shit up Nigga what? How you want it, ain't no survivors, just goners It's gettin' hectic when the 9 start spittin' Burn around and lay every rapper down in your town Wash 'em up just like the verdict come down We'll take your shit Your bitch and your grip And this is how it is when we take your shit We came in the door, said it before West Side, East Side when we hit the floor Got the paper fo' sho' got chronic galore And the ho's keep beggin' us to blow some more Hit and run Just for fun But it ain't no fun if the homies can't have none Stop fakin', baby, cause we got paper to spend More peso's, guaranteed to clock those Suppose I be's the nigga with static Watch my back, always packs the automatic East coast, West coast fuck that, you dig? Niggas in your own hood'll split your wig But me, I'm on the premium Never on the regular Connects in bound, trips on my cellular I'm telling ya It must be the good life, son Land of the sunshine, Crystal wine Keeps one time thinking, suspicious Twenty-six S-5 hun', twenty inches Must be the money from the rob, they don't know Must be the money from the gang, fo' sho' We came in the door, said it before West Side, East Side when we hit the floor Got the paper fo' sho', got chronic galore And the ho's keep beggin' us to blow some more Who's your friend or not? Your old partners from the block Take and pop shots Trying to put my life to a stop Prepare for the murder spree Bustin' until I'm free of these bastards Never heard of me and never knew of me Supposed to love me, homie, show me Through all the shit that we been through homie, you owe me Make you pay fo' sho', it is rough Off brand niggas getting rushed On the boulevard, times is really getting rough Call your bluff, why you want to always front To be a all day nigga it's a all day stunt I'm from the East side of Long Beach, and we roll deep Creep and blow your whole head off, you're caught in the street 'Cause We came in the door, said it before West Side, East Side when we hit the floor Got the paper fo' sho', got chronic galore And the ho's keep beggin us to blow some more... One two one two I said the Half Ounce crew Yeah Eihthype in the house Daz Dillinger in the house Explain Request ×

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