Bitch Nigga

[Talking]

Nigga don't act like you don't know who I'm talkin' bout

(Fifty-Cent piece drops on table)

[Coinciding With 50 Cent's Intro on 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin']

[Scarface]

It's your worst day, run and tell somebody

It's your worst day.

It's your worst day, run and tell somebody

It's your worst day.

What it is?, nigga!

You don't wanna get involved with this here, nigga!

Is you a bitch nigga?, you a bitch nigga!

Look at yourself and then analyze me!

This motherfucking G

I can see the flaws in you, you got girl drawers in you

Girl flaws in you, a broad nigga!

I peeped your whole hand when you came in

I'm a man and I hang men

Play the game to win

All men should play on ten

Scarface 'finna do it again

Mash you nigga, smash through niggas

Don't make me upstrap and blast you niggas

Once again, it's only, its a must that I do it

Lock you in my scope and blast your ass through it

I'ma ruin

The image and the style that you used to

Cuz you don't keep it real like you used to

A O.G., esa, fool to the hole fa'sho

So niggas slow your motherfucking roll

'Fore I come through with the same M-11

The Feds took from me, and shoot you in yo motherfucking stomach

[Chorus: Scarface]

You a Snitch Nigga, when you rat on yo friends

Bitch Nigga, when you steal cash from your kin

You'z a Snitch Nigga, running when the drama go down

You was bumpin at first what happened to the manly sound

You a Snitch Nigga, specializin' at bumpin' ya gums

Bitch Nigga, countin' all your bricks but all I see is crumbs

Snitch Nigga, ain't you tired of running your mouth

Can't even go home, cause a jacker might run in your house

[Verse: Z-Ro]

Now snitch fellas get up under my skin

That's why I don't mess with friends

Unless it's my Mac-10

I'm the king of the ghetto, Z-Ro the crooked in the flesh

Looking for head shots, cuz snitch fellas get the bullet-proof vests

What you scared for?

What happened to all the tough ass talk

The way you was bumpin', I thought you had a taste for asphalt

Look at momma's baby out here starvin' for an ass-

whippin', beefin', with a magician then drippin' now his ass missin

I'll be damned if I pull a rabbit out a hat

Well pull my 40 out of holster, and put a snitch fella on his back

WHOA!, look how I handled this .44

My conscience be screaming Z-Ro Murder Mo!, Murder Mo!

And these snitch fellas on "How I'm Living" try snitchin' on "BET"

But got a restraining order against "Murder I-N-C"

This how we ride, and ain't never gon' make a switch dude

Z-Ro the Crooked, I'll be damned if I be a snitch fool

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Bun B]

It's Bun B I go back-a like "Atlanta Black Crackers"

I back-slap a, back-packer, from here to Cakalacka{Carolina's}

Wack rapper, short stopper or dope kicker-inner

Bitch I ain't ya chicken hitter, bring the heater get you wetter(get you

wetter)

With the 50 caliber magnum handgun

Step a bear off in his tracks, you better hope I don't land one

If I cock that bitch back..aim it at your chest

It'll be weeks before they even find the pieces to your vest

We releasers of ya stress..ease ya pain

Put this pistol in your mouth, you'll never need them trees again

The one ya momma warned ya about

Bun-y he's insane

Kill a kid over a quarter, (???)

(???), boy you fuckin with the triller

Z-Ro the young guerilla

And Face the born killa

(Bitch Nigga)

Feel around in the dark for dough

(Bitch Nigga)

You here the sound, see the spark, and you know

[Chorus]