Nuthin' But Lyrics - Singles - Cru

Aiyo I'm just lottin' thru cuz I finished with that booty call 

Green Acres more, lot and Queens had it all 

Got the beat from my man Big Stan 50 Grand 

Rhythem Blunt Cru, Black Rob in demand 

Mic check one, and the mic check two 

Rhythem Blunt Cru runs thru you like the flu 

Fuck ya whole shop up and inside 

Leave ya jaw to the floor, eyes open wide 

Loungin' in my crib upon, now in 12 floor 

Lo-Lo wit the ham come knockin' at my door 

She sell glock shells by the sea shore 

Payin' for the guests on that big ass boat 

Yo kids, I'm takin' no shorts, back and forth like a meter 

Play it crazy, ballin' see ya, park dark black Adidas 

Art shines, 'cuz I'm double, Spanish honies say Roberto 

Fuck that, I buck that bitch nigga from your borough 

Well lyrical gats, at the smalls of my back 

In facts, I pack extras up in my nap sacks 

Greenbacks, let me layin' back and relax 

Gainin' riches, bitches just by kickin' the mere fact 

Nigga I can make ya speaker shake 

Make ya break, now ya upstate gettin' raped 

While I'm home makin' hits 

That smokin' so much weed that I start hearin' shit 

Aiyo, fuck is that shit yo 

(What) 

You hear that shit 

(What?) 

Don't fuck with me, ya niggas hear that shit 

Ya niggas fuck with 

(Yo chill, man take it) 

Rhythem Blunt Cru, knockin' at the door 

Nothin' but the rough, rugged and hardcore 

Rhythem Blunt Cru, knockin' at the door 

Nothin' but the rough, rugged and hardcore 

Rhythem Blunt Cru, knockin' at the door 

Nothin' but the rough, rugged and hardcore 

Rhythem Blunt Cru, knockin' at the door 

Nothin' but the rough, rugged and hardcore 

Jack call Yopes, so I stay to bring the metal 

To my job on 34th, I got some beef with these devils 

Automatic weapons, fuck askin' niggas questions 

Leave them torn, as the justice cypher born then we steppin' 

All rise, parental discretion is advised 

And be wise, 'cuz one who fronts is one who dies 

Smoke buddah by the mic, just like a barracuda 

Flush the Cru to the ground like Roto Rooter 

A fight, a fight, a nigga and a white 

If a nigga don't win, we all jump in 

Wanna be me, but you can't see me 

'Cuz I don't rap like Michael Jackson those little wee-wees 

Uck it, bottom line, top of the page 

Loves to fuck a big body bitch like Rage 

Runnin' thru uptown like I don't got no sense 

And Frederick K. Price couldn't find no evidence 

Yo I make the grade, now I'm crazy paid 

Niggas watch me close like muslims in the 

World Trade Center, represent the click in the city 

Blowin' up the spot, like silicone titties 

Try to defeat beat, nigga ya dead wrong 

Too head strong and got a 38 leg long 

So fuck around, lay around on the wet ground 

By the tray pound and these sick niggas from uptown 

Let me clear my throat now