Song Description
This song was composed in the spirit of drama. The subject-matter is generalized, more or less, so as to make the messege universal. I mean, who doesn't have beef of some kind with someone or something?
| Song Length |
3:20 |
Genre |
Rap - Hip Hop, Rap - General |
| Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
Mood |
Heated, Aggressive |
| Subject |
General |
Language |
English |
| Era |
2000 and later |
| |
Lyrics
Miles Money intro:
Hook:
When ya play with my mind,
and ya cross the line,
or try to take what's mine.
We got beef in this Bitch!
When a fake and a fraud,
and a part-time broad
tries to pull my card.
We got beef in this Bitch!
When a two faced clown,
wanna take my crown,
or try to hold me down.
We got beef in this Bitch!
When you see me on them streets
and I'm actin' strange--
think its a game?
We got beef in this Bitch!
Verse 1:
It goes lights, camera, spread the propaganda,
high stake gambler, state to state scrambler.
Congac sipper, dollar-bill flipper,
Cadillac dipper-- heavy on the grind.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a nine,
gots to gets mine.
The heat-seeker, deeper than Albert Einstien,
watch me shine.
If them boys got beef I aint hard to find.
From Yale to jail, up the block to the alley,
I keeps it real from the hills to the valley.
Mucho denero, live like a pharaoh,
stalk the streets, play for keeps in Marrero.
Repeat Hook:
Verse 2:
Roll out the red carpet,
caught ya runnin' ya mouth like a faucet,
too late to squash it.
Seekin' out, peepin' out game like a sniper,
paid my dues, nothin' to lose like a lifer.
Strike-ya like-ah jackal,
Raw-Form is too slick to tackle,
strong-arm or grapple.
I gets it done like knowledge applied,
tote a black 45, all jokes aside.
Trust me
this G
won't be denied.
Lyrical landscaper, rougher than sandpaper.
6 mics I got stripes like a bengal,
'bout my jingles.
Stack mo' chips than Pringles.
Repeat Hook:
Verse 3:
No more Mr. Nice Guy!
You look shook-- speechless.
Mistook my kindness for weakness.
The chart climber, call me th brown-bomber,
bringin' the drama like two baby-mamas.
I'm ah--
City dweller, dime-piece compeller,
by any measure-- "cause look I'm on a roll.
That all mighty dollar is my primary goal,
the streets increase my bankroll 20 fold.
Outa control, off top rock ya cradle,
paid under the table.
Write my peeps in Angola and St. Gabriel.
A Gutter Prince runnin' a platinum record label,
holdin' that iron stable.
Repeat Hook:
Miles Money outro: