G- guts to the rush - mad
Like a pitbull ragin brothers be wagin (war)
- suckers try to come hardcore
When they tricks down with a - bitch
It ain't nothin but a rough player skill comin from my dome
Feel the pressure of the cyclone
Tracks that we lay breakin backs, leave you breathless
Funk Slave - a death wish
And I aiin't too - damn thang
Watch your back for the jack in --
So gain weight for the style I unleash, parner
Chezski, Rube, herm-, Baby Beesh, partner
- fingers in the gat- partner
Whole album, check out the sound, partner
So mister -
Potna Deuce in the house and it's time to -
Rube
Nigga, cough it up, so we can chop it up and then we scoop it up and loop it up
And get the whole motherf*ckin crew to cut
And if they like it, cool, if not, later for 'em
Yeah, I said I played it for em, never said I made it for 'em
- trick, and smell the Rossi
No respect for hoes or those who smoke Ghadaffi
Been upon the mic for quite a whole while now
Green-stem buds got no love for the brown, pal
I'm - eight in my brainwaves
Run up in two tramps in the same day
You feel the pressure - no jurisdiction
It's just another mouth - to put they dicks in
- snatch it, chop it with a hatchet
Let them motherf*ckers kknow what's up, boy, that's it
-, never see me grinnin
Twomp sacks come way fat, so put your bid in
[Chez:]
Puff up, smoke, stop-whiff
Chezski, the -
Ba-ba-bang, hit hard
Bringin new styles so the punk suckers fall short
Raised as a have-not poor, knew me
Never had shit handed to me
The rough type -
- so you don't get wet
Back-stabber trick - I see it
Funk Slave soldier in the pain gettin heated
Comin straight sick
Wait, -
and down for the slug fest
-
Crooked - aim, kill it
pressure - strong - rough, feel it
plus gast Rob G
Potna Deuce - Feel Da Pressure Lyrics
Potna Deuce - Feel Da Pressure Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
G- guts to the rush - mad
Like a pitbull ragin brothers be wagin (war)
- suckers try to come hardcore
When they tricks down with a - bitch
It ain't nothin but a rough player skill comin from my dome
Feel the pressure of the cyclone
Tracks that we lay breakin backs, leave you breathless
Funk Slave - a death wish
And I aiin't too - damn thang
Watch your back for the jack in --
So gain weight for the style I unleash, parner
Chezski, Rube, herm-, Baby Beesh, partner
- fingers in the gat- partner
Whole album, check out the sound, partner
So mister -
Potna Deuce in the house and it's time to -
Rube
Nigga, cough it up, so we can chop it up and then we scoop it up and loop it up
And get the whole motherf*ckin crew to cut
And if they like it, cool, if not, later for 'em
Yeah, I said I played it for em, never said I made it for 'em
- trick, and smell the Rossi
No respect for hoes or those who smoke Ghadaffi
Been upon the mic for quite a whole while now
Green-stem buds got no love for the brown, pal
I'm - eight in my brainwaves
Run up in two tramps in the same day
You feel the pressure - no jurisdiction
It's just another mouth - to put they dicks in
- snatch it, chop it with a hatchet
Let them motherf*ckers kknow what's up, boy, that's it
-, never see me grinnin
Twomp sacks come way fat, so put your bid in
[Chez:]
Puff up, smoke, stop-whiff
Chezski, the -
Ba-ba-bang, hit hard
Bringin new styles so the punk suckers fall short
Raised as a have-not poor, knew me
Never had shit handed to me
The rough type -
- so you don't get wet
Back-stabber trick - I see it
Funk Slave soldier in the pain gettin heated
Comin straight sick
Wait, -
and down for the slug fest
-
Crooked - aim, kill it
pressure - strong - rough, feel it
plus gast Rob G
Like a pitbull ragin brothers be wagin (war)
- suckers try to come hardcore
When they tricks down with a - bitch
It ain't nothin but a rough player skill comin from my dome
Feel the pressure of the cyclone
Tracks that we lay breakin backs, leave you breathless
Funk Slave - a death wish
And I aiin't too - damn thang
Watch your back for the jack in --
So gain weight for the style I unleash, parner
Chezski, Rube, herm-, Baby Beesh, partner
- fingers in the gat- partner
Whole album, check out the sound, partner
So mister -
Potna Deuce in the house and it's time to -
Rube
Nigga, cough it up, so we can chop it up and then we scoop it up and loop it up
And get the whole motherf*ckin crew to cut
And if they like it, cool, if not, later for 'em
Yeah, I said I played it for em, never said I made it for 'em
- trick, and smell the Rossi
No respect for hoes or those who smoke Ghadaffi
Been upon the mic for quite a whole while now
Green-stem buds got no love for the brown, pal
I'm - eight in my brainwaves
Run up in two tramps in the same day
You feel the pressure - no jurisdiction
It's just another mouth - to put they dicks in
- snatch it, chop it with a hatchet
Let them motherf*ckers kknow what's up, boy, that's it
-, never see me grinnin
Twomp sacks come way fat, so put your bid in
[Chez:]
Puff up, smoke, stop-whiff
Chezski, the -
Ba-ba-bang, hit hard
Bringin new styles so the punk suckers fall short
Raised as a have-not poor, knew me
Never had shit handed to me
The rough type -
- so you don't get wet
Back-stabber trick - I see it
Funk Slave soldier in the pain gettin heated
Comin straight sick
Wait, -
and down for the slug fest
-
Crooked - aim, kill it
pressure - strong - rough, feel it
plus gast Rob G