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Young Buck – O It's On lyrics
95 percent of these supposed to be thugs is hoes
With Victoria Secret panties crammin that ass hole
Throwin the crooked finger ddd- ridin the west coast
Giv em' some real soldiers
Why'all son of bitches, hoes
I called it like I called it
Think I'm wrong, step forward
And get yo mind pushed in a science class bucket
She in to tough talkin now that 50 got on
Quit fantisizing bout that man, and live on
You ain't neva be hard, yo mammy titty fed you too long
Probly still suck it if she pulled it out and showed ya
Tonite were gettin closure,I'm pointin out folks
Pullin niggaz cards, exposin what ya hold
I'm sorry if it feels you don't know me no more
Just had some shit on my mind,in my chest I had to get off
You can't judge a mutha fuckin book by its cover
But I can spot a bitch a mile away
Pardon me brotha
Chorus
O its on, get at me, bitch I won't slap the shit outcha
Whacho want, Drag, cummon, bring all the bitches
O its on, get it, bitch I won't slap the shit whacho want, drag, cummon, bring all the bitches
" " " " " " " " " " " " " " "
" " " "
O its on, get it, bitch I won't slap the shit whacho want, drag cummon get ya some, mutha fuchas
Verse 2
These niggaz catchin feelings
They ain't men they women
And he gay 'cause he wit em and he trying to defend em
So I say we should expose these hoes
I think our fans should know they gon shoot up yo shows
Its on know ya'll can cummon down
I got a desert eagle wit a silencer
I swear it make no sound
A 4-5 calibur with some bullets that so round
50 took a look at it and told me to slow down
Petey you need me nigga just holla and I got ya
Throw on some frank sinatra and order me some pasta
They fuckin with some mobstas
See we can get it done, and I bet you at his funeral
Nobody gon come
I ain't here to be beefin wit no nigga to get a name
If you pussie and show yo panties, I'm pullin out my thang
Got a habit of smackin faggots with semi-automatics
You niggas in trouble
Buck and petey back at it its on!
(chorus)
If you jump off in the club its a jump off in the club
She can tow up just get tore up like I give a good fuck
All the champagne I don bought but why'all don paid for this chair
That I'm fittin to take and break acros this son of bitch head
Look at bonecrusher very first verse he don read (10 ton(
That's on everything I love to drop then
Fuckin round get a main artery cut in half
Blood gushin out the side of you're neck bleedin to death
Needin a paramedic to reconnect n piecen you back together
I don seen it happen too many times out here, hate it man
Its gettin crucial out here n you takin this shit for granite
Pussy punk, panty wearin mascara faggot
Blowpop suckin ass,juicy fruity crooked man
Molested as a child, by the babysitter daddy
Backstabbin motherfuckin crabs in a barell
I can't stand em, but I bet I can handle em
With Victoria Secret panties crammin that ass hole
Throwin the crooked finger ddd- ridin the west coast
Giv em' some real soldiers
Why'all son of bitches, hoes
I called it like I called it
Think I'm wrong, step forward
And get yo mind pushed in a science class bucket
She in to tough talkin now that 50 got on
Quit fantisizing bout that man, and live on
You ain't neva be hard, yo mammy titty fed you too long
Probly still suck it if she pulled it out and showed ya
Tonite were gettin closure,I'm pointin out folks
Pullin niggaz cards, exposin what ya hold
I'm sorry if it feels you don't know me no more
Just had some shit on my mind,in my chest I had to get off
You can't judge a mutha fuckin book by its cover
But I can spot a bitch a mile away
Pardon me brotha
Chorus
O its on, get at me, bitch I won't slap the shit outcha
Whacho want, Drag, cummon, bring all the bitches
O its on, get it, bitch I won't slap the shit whacho want, drag, cummon, bring all the bitches
" " " " " " " " " " " " " " "
" " " "
O its on, get it, bitch I won't slap the shit whacho want, drag cummon get ya some, mutha fuchas
Verse 2
These niggaz catchin feelings
They ain't men they women
And he gay 'cause he wit em and he trying to defend em
So I say we should expose these hoes
I think our fans should know they gon shoot up yo shows
Its on know ya'll can cummon down
I got a desert eagle wit a silencer
I swear it make no sound
A 4-5 calibur with some bullets that so round
50 took a look at it and told me to slow down
Petey you need me nigga just holla and I got ya
Throw on some frank sinatra and order me some pasta
They fuckin with some mobstas
See we can get it done, and I bet you at his funeral
Nobody gon come
I ain't here to be beefin wit no nigga to get a name
If you pussie and show yo panties, I'm pullin out my thang
Got a habit of smackin faggots with semi-automatics
You niggas in trouble
Buck and petey back at it its on!
(chorus)
If you jump off in the club its a jump off in the club
She can tow up just get tore up like I give a good fuck
All the champagne I don bought but why'all don paid for this chair
That I'm fittin to take and break acros this son of bitch head
Look at bonecrusher very first verse he don read (10 ton(
That's on everything I love to drop then
Fuckin round get a main artery cut in half
Blood gushin out the side of you're neck bleedin to death
Needin a paramedic to reconnect n piecen you back together
I don seen it happen too many times out here, hate it man
Its gettin crucial out here n you takin this shit for granite
Pussy punk, panty wearin mascara faggot
Blowpop suckin ass,juicy fruity crooked man
Molested as a child, by the babysitter daddy
Backstabbin motherfuckin crabs in a barell
I can't stand em, but I bet I can handle em
Lyrics taken from
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