Lyrics You Ain't Nice - Papoose

Oh you gettin money, well hallelujah
I'm gettin money to, more power to ya
Oh you bust your gun, well hallelujah
I bust mine to, more power to ya
Oh you iced out, well hallelujah
I'm iced out to, more power to ya

But what the fuck that gotta do with the mic
I analyze ever rhyme you write
You ain't nice

What pap can't do the lyrical one can
I hit the mixtape circuit for a few months span
Now you runnin round screamin Papoose your man
But I been nice since they used to shoot up jams
G-packs on the block, tryna move 1 gram
Everyone scatter when the narcs pull up vans
Man it's hard in the hood, gotta use your plans
When you get some real money, cop you some land
Better watch how you choose your mans
Niggas had they turn, but they don't wanna give you your chance
I ain't asked you for no favors when you blew up scrams
I mixed baking soda with coke and blew up grams
Your fans become mine when we do one jam
I'm like an air conditioner, I make you loose your fans
I could see you finally grew up scrams
But if it wasn't for me it wouldn't even be of you young man
Niggas bringin hammers to the beach, you brung' sand
Go to the other side of the club and do your dance
Cuz if it look like you reachin when you pull your pants
I'ma pull out the razor and remove your glands
He was gone as soon as he lift his boot up, dam
They disappear when the rouga blam
Niggas be gettin too familiar, gotta know whose your fam
Most of that shit come from shakin to much hands
I don't respect your two but mans
So when they try and give me 5
I leave em' hangin like the klu klux klan
I could see alotta yall is feelin real rebellious
That's the same reason yall cocksuckas is failures
Only look out for niggas cuz I ain't selfish
Always screamin they need help, niggas is helpless
Ain't nothin homie, I got it tucked in my pelvis
Think I won't send you to Elvis?
Walk around with my gun tucked
Everybody screamin they run stuff
But they drop a whole bunch of trash like dump trucks
I wish one of them run up on me with that dumb stuff
Got a motherfukkin knife game like Young Buck
Them crakkas have you standin in the courtroom cuffed up
You got that bail money, you uncuffed
Lawyers'll take the case when they know you gon blow
They such chumps
Lawyers'll take the case if you givin them bucks up
You blow, they say tough luck
Lawyers is just like cds, if they don't get a case they fucked up
I told yall dudes I throw a ace and clutch up
My waist be pumped up
Niggas be wearin them fitted hats real low
Like they comin to let it pop
I don't care if it's the Yankees or the Mets hops
Just reveal your face for you get your head rocked
Put blood in your shoes now you down with the red sox
The Bed or the Stuy, man the live or the dead blocks
The Bed or the Stuy, man the worse or the best blocks
The Bed or the Stuy, What part do you rep, aey?
The Bed or the Stuy
(Pap he heard what you said stop)
I run all through the Stuy
I stay with my sket cocked
You don't be in the Stuy, you must be in the bed hops
I told you I had a baby 380 out wed lock
Been bangin since Eric Koch
I know real bloods, Who don't play checkers
Cuz they can't move on the red spots
Real respect real, rep that to the death lot
I understand life is a game of chess and whatnot
And gun play, I don't play chess I play headshots
Infrared dots on you makin your neck hot
Streetsweepers sendin direct shots
Cuz me and slay rock like
Dre and Snoop
Pac and Suge
Hov and Dame
Puff and Big
Cam and Jimmy
You and your man like Janet and Britney.

Oh you gettin money, well hallelujah
I'm gettin money to, more power to ya
Oh you bust your gun, well hallelujah
I bust mine to, more power to ya
Oh you iced out, well hallelujah
I'm iced out to, more power to ya

But what the fuck that gotta do with the mic
I analyze ever rhyme you write
You ain't nice