We use cookies to customize content and advertising, to provide social media features, and to analyze traffic to our site. We also share information about your use of our site with our trusted social media, advertising and analytics partners. Read more.

    Redman / Lyrics

    Playlist 0 Rate 0 Like & Share Print Email Play

    "Wrong 4 Dat" Lyrics

    Redman feat. Keith Murray

    This is WKYA, We Kickin Yo' Ass radio
    All you motherfuckers out there that wanna get down with the pound
    put your motherfuckin pounds up, and start bustin the motherfuckers
    Am I too loud for this motherfucker? Turn me down a little bit
    Yeah yeah yeah

    Yo, first of all I'm a grown-ass man, pay my own bills
    Stated own real, haters gon' feel
    Direct Syndrome, mouth with cold tongue
    You bounty hunters be on the chase for Joe Young
    I won't slip, keep pink slips to my car

    I'm raw like sushi bars on bougie broads
    I retrieve the money, dawg labrador
    Ray Charles can see it, and Stacy Lattisaw
    You get mashed out, cause your bird is peckin
    Don't be the next vinyl cut to (Urban Legend)
    I can feel where you at, when I pound you up
    You out of town coke rhymes, oh you clowns is up
    My crew stay in the truck, can't fit in the Porsche
    If you bitches ain't happy, then get a divorce
    I'ma do what I want, cause my time is now
    Grab the whole rap game, and divide it down

    If I wanna roll a Jeep with a seat out the back
    Bitch feet out the back, system beat out the track
    Am I wrong for dat? (If that's what you like)
    Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Hey, I guess not)
    Yo yo, if I walk into the club with my hand on my snub
    Beatin down security cause I don't give a fuck

    Am I wrong for dat? (Mmm mmm)
    Dawg, am I wrong for dat? (Say WHAAAAT?!)

    Yo Keith, yo yo Keith
    [sound of jail door opening]

    [Keith Murray]
    I copped the whole box, went half with Reginald
    Hollow tips infrareds and (?) clips came free
    And you ain't gotta believe me, fuck bein nervous
    Far as I'm concerned they're at your funeral service
    What do we have here? Snitch in despair, shoot off his ear
    Have his whole body shakin in fear
    Stormtrooper fires throwin lashin out flames
    A few ashes, when they analyze your remains
    I live in the streets, reside with the toolie
    I kill you like it's part of my religious duty
    Street sweeper thug keeper sweepin thugs under the rug

    Even females who think they thugs
    Trigger the release of adrenaline
    When I'm gangsta-trippin like the Bloods'n'Crips'n'them
    Unleash the matter of energy, killin 'em
    Why'd you do it? Because I wasn't feelin them!

    If I ride through the hood, smokin a ounce of haze (uh-huh)
    with a shabby haircut, pants I wore for days
    Am I wrong for dat? (I don't think so)
    C'mon bitch, am I wrong for dat? (Say WHAAAAT?!)
    Yo, if I want a fat chick that keep her toes done (uh-huh)
    When they playin my song ass spill out the thong
    Am I wrong for dat? (Got that big ass)
    Am I wrong for dat? (Tchk, nooo)

    I gotta, bang the boogie to that bang bang pussy
    to that bang to the pussy the beat, beat
    And if yo', bitch ain't sippin that Cristal shit
    Then she might be leavin with D, D
    I got a hairy-ass chest, like Austin Powers
    That bitch that "Stan" drowned, I fucked around with her
    Act like a man, stand on your own two
    Doc takin it all, fuck who it belong to
    This song was submitted on March 10th, 2010 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Warner/chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Reggie Noble, Erick Sermon, Keith Murray.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

    Song Details

    Rank: (−)
    −/5 from 0 users
    Charts: view all »
    Referring urls:view all »


    Songs you may also like


    leaderboard activity


    Facebook (0) LetsSingIt (0)