Worries Songtext

von Cella Dwellas

Trouble again, when the dwellas performing, why yo
Worries again, when the dwellas coming skanking
Hey yo, it's the tall man from the group the cella dwellas
I rock ruff and stuff, but no afro puff
Y'all better start learning, for whom is concerning
My style makes niggas vexed like mississippi burning
All these wack MC's trying to be o-dog and manage at society
At my show's iamb, that's when I get possessed by the gods like Raiden
The Panamanian,
Tasmanian,
AK's like an Arabian
Move the lady and, the baby and, I gets kinda crazy and
Shady and, when I flex the .380 and
Niggas got no wins, crush them like wheat thins
Peace to all the shorties whoever hit me off with skins
When them fed bloodshed by the liter
No impala, 850 coupe two seater
And mida, mida mayne, don't sleep
One love to my all peeps that rest in peace
Phone dials from the rooftop
Stay in trouble like 2Pac,
With dumb dumb and hollow tips
Some swallow shit, others get grazed
Others burn and cause to blaze, bruh
Under ground, gets down for his
So blond kids putting krazy glue on the eyelids, so
Act like Po and get low, when you hear the ch-ch blow blow
Of the boo-ya, bringing it to ya chest, hit ya cardio
Muscle is the part of ya, hustle the bus stop
To rust stock, to come from empty em
Many men, big dust when the max lit
When the track hits the dat split from the fat shit
You better prepare for warfare in the Brooklyn streets
Don't pick up your chest or fake gats
Cuz mats is what I run to, and gun through
Bodies, niggas die for cash causing haughty
Gotti is the Italian stallion I want to be like
Me and you G ride cracks like ninja bikes
Watch yo ass, cuz Cella Dwellas lurking
Name ain't Anthony, but the shank's still perking
Out my stoop got mad troops
In my ride I wanna sun roof and stash place to make the gun proof
From the keystone cops who get no props
For these soldier toys, trying to be rough like corduroy
If you want the drama caps get peeled, like that is real
Like that for crab niggas who squeal like that
And chit chat behind my back, lie fair face
Them kinda tricks we convict on the stair case
Yo some bad news, like the bad
Where's my homies? like killa now
My killer style gets the check, so I can pay the bills
To get the dills, run up in chicks named Beverly hills
9-0-2-1-0, the duo dynamic, so push the panic button
How UG be the emcee, you can't see, like the muppets nanny
The man be sticking niggas for grand
(Shit be walking in the dark alley man)
Like Chris Tucker, shit raiser, in the wrist band
Riff and, open your mouth is like? box
So stop screwing and bad looks
Don't tempt me, to let the 4-4 empty