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TECHNIEC lyrics : "LB 2000"

Techniec
Yo, I'm a M.C. ^!$$% for real
That's my label

Lay it on the table
And get jumped like cables
I swear I'm gonna remain the %#@!

Let everything I'm on remain a hit, and bang the clip
Don't wanna get hit, get out my lane and %#@!
$#&@ you and who-ever you hanging wit

Let's see how insane it get
It's not like me to like me
^!$$%s jeopardise their safety to hate me

Ride on safety
Peep the whole thang like safeties
My ^!$$%, cause %#@! been way off the hook lately

Every little high class (*##$ wanna date me
Hoes feel I'm real lucky
(Can I drive your car?, you can trust me)

I've got a dollar seventy five (*##$, that's the bus key
You must be thinking that I must be
Some type of hook

I read (*##$es like books
Keep my riches tight, look
Slow down baby, don't rush

These diamonds is for sure, hoe don't touch
And these cowards is more than sick for
Talking %#@! I spit and kill ^!$$%s like orsenit

My squad, kill ^!$$%s for flossing %#@!
Choose not to tug your chain
They buck your brain

If you ain't a hard rider
You punk and lame
Try to play the top dollar

Get turned to change

Chorus: Techniec w/ Soultre' singing in the background

I'm one hard-ass ^!$$%
I pull the glock out
I be the one everbody talking about

So watch your mouth for '99
Everything mine, everything fine
Yeah

I'm one hard-ass ^!$$%
I pull the glock out
I be the one everybody talking about

watch your mouth
I Hoo-Bang, like butane, from here to Ukraine


Techniec
I ain't know over four ^!$$%s
Making over four figures

Never met a gold digger
All I did was poke (*##$es
%#@!, that was the class I was in

Now I might $#&@ around and blast your kin, for no reason
Give a hard look, smash 'em in
You see this little .44 find the spot and splash your men

Tried to hit Vegas wit them liquid chips, and cash 'em in
^!$$% got big bready, flossed a little
Now they think I'm big headed

They way they talked about it, like a (*##$ said it
Just wanted to show the homies that I, came up
But they, hated, twisted and tried to $#&@ my name up

Don't wanna see a ^!$$% have %#@!
I'm like $#&@ it, bring the 9 at ya
Fine apples, and plastics

Explosives, double holsters for those toters
The way I spit %#@!, they are wide when I roll close


Chorus

I'm like what?, when he pointed to the T on my hat

My Hoo-Bangin' medallion, Long Beach shirt after that
As I went down, I rose up, showed him the gat
Then asked him, "Now do you got a problem wit dat?"

Sat down, put the mack down
Steady looked at this coward
Dead in his face, ready to crack down
Guess no-one can help him, I backed down
Get crowned and downed, young ^!$$% I pack pounds

I ain't trippin' no mo', I'm getting my dough
Same ^!$$% at the show, plotting on getting my hoe
Like I give a hoot about the (*##$
Especially if I couldn't give a hoot about the (*##$
You a trick-ass ^!$$%, and I doubt you rich

Gang bang boy like you, gang claiming you're all goin insane
It's a new age, new time ^!$$%
And I really predict this %#@!s all mine ^!$$%

Chorus

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