Bring It On - Terror Squad

Yea yea, what

Uh, terror squad

Uh, from the streets to the jail cell

I mean, my niggaz is facin death penalties and all that

Charlie rock el d Yea yea, this go out to you my nigga

Yo, yo Aint no solution for this

Since day one I been true to this shit

Often niggaz try to shoot but they miss

I been provin to hit so you know its really real

I went from chillin on the hills to signin deals worth fitty (fifty) mil

Self made millionaire status

We all gettin money but its funny how mine makes niggaz maddest

Come at us if you ready for war

Whoever you are

Leave you dead in your hall leakin red on the floor

Better than yall

Niggaz need to face the facts

Since the days of crack I been blazin gats — tryin to raise my stats

Tracin back — you could find me at a racin track

Laced in black — bettin on a horse called amazin jack

Joey cracks the illest — fully backed my killaz

Hoppin outta 18 wheelas — like mad gorillas

Niggaz need to calm they nerves when Im concerned

Cause if you didnt know by now — you all gone learn

Chorus: I aint know you really want it How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin

Dont want no people wantin to play my game

And if you really want the problems nigga say my name

Bring it on, come on I aint know you really want it How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin

Dont want no people wantin to play my game

And if you really want the problems nigga say my name

Bring it on, come on I puts it down with pun

Now all I do is lounge in the sun

Look what I done from the slums — to sportin 5 thousand and ones

See the ice glitter — I only walk with them nice niggaz

Sheist niggaz that quit it for doin life niggaz

You had a judge — we came through in the clutch

Fifty fifth- aint no what to do when I came through witcha

The don polly — you could find me as fresh as denali

In times probably even marching at a shaufton (?) rally

I often carry thats the price of fame

Got precise the fame snipe u with the rifle and unlight your brain

It aint a game — its real niggaz with real guns

That still run — caught a box- and pump ox by the millions

Before the children thats confusin life

The voodoo type thatll pull out the uz (uzi) and make you lose your life

The news is tight — I got em hangin by the neck

Man you tanglin with vets when you bangin with ts (what, what the fuck!)