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    Disturbing Tha Peace / Lyrics

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    "N.S.E.W." Lyrics

    Disturbing Tha Peace feat. Shawnna and I-20

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    Duration:00:04:14
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    Lyrics

    Just get on down [8x]

    [Chorus]

    North, North, South, South, East, East, West, West [4x]

    Shit, Got a nigga gone off a fifth of Fayo and apple juice
    Throw up a deuce, Keep my hat banged to the left and
    ain't scared to act a fool
    So what you gone do, you betta not speak unless spoken
    to cause I bust that shit'it
    Dump that Philly, I could back dro wit a lac wit a
    yak, gettin drunk off in it
    Through the Chi like North, North, South, South
    Niggas talk shit put that work in they mouth
    In the East, East, West, West, niggas bust back put a slug in ya chest
    Cause I'm hood, hood, gutter, gutter
    Shauna got juice like a muh'fucka
    Hood of the hustlas and bloodsuckas
    Back in the bricks wit that good

    [Chorus]

    Fep, in the spot, buyin yak wit my balla camp
    All them bitches holla'n bout is (Where them fuckin dollas at)
    Yeeah, I got them hos, I got them O's, I got Air phones for those hos
    And yeeah, I got white phones,
    got black phones, I got crack weed in the floor
    So get on the grind, Get on some lime,Get on mine, let ya mind take course
    Got dip in the ride, Switchin the tires, Whippin the fire 85 Chevy Sport
    See if you got 16's, I will make that pliz'ay
    And I'm dressed like a dope boy, throwin up them triz'eys

    East side, whole Masterfield rainbow
    Flight soles, kinda roll where them thangs blow
    Good wood, not wastin that payroll
    Five hos trapped, boys got rapers
    My size got air nigga rep that
    We ride, rock sells and I bet that
    Car is a gutless, pistol is a must bitch
    Let a nigga know that his head I will bust quick
    Some slum niggas know what I'm talkin bout
    Lil rob fillin hos in the parkin lot
    Gimme head while I'm bustin that two track
    It was trill, hit the fence, never looked back
    Big thug, hit clubs in the fifth book
    Dollar Boy, let em know how to rip folk
    If a bitch broke, gotta let her slide, though
    2-0 represent East side ho

    [Chorus]

    Hell, I'm up in the club, 4 whippin up,
    just throwin up pitch forks to (what, what)
    Tupac, I'm a rider, hoppin out, Gangsta crip disciples (Yeeah!)
    Wilin on the side of the club and dressed in blood
    colors, waitin on a sign to (Yeeah!)
    Pull out the gats and attack on them boys that thought that
    (they thought it couldn't happen)
    They blastin and screamin, we ain't friends, ain't no need to pretend
    (Shawty!) Split the mens, for my homey that got killed last weekend
    His brains was left leakin while his body got cold
    Now it's y'all life that y'all owe
    Time to even the score, case closed

    [Chorus (2x)]
    [Scratching]
    This song was submitted on March 12th, 2010 and last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Ultra Tunes.
    Written by Bobby Sandimanie, Torrey D Cook, Taheed Epps, Guy Rashawnna, Arbie Wilson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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