Creep Low (Jim Jones Diss) lyrics

[Intro]
This that ol real live gangsta sh*t right here, yea (Light that sh*t, smoke it, roll that sh*t, Light that sh*t, smoke it, roll that sh*t, Light that sh*t)
That ol XP black incorporated sh*t, n*gga, yes
Cyco-lic-no b*tch-azz n*ggas so when you f*ck the R-O-C, creep low

[Verse]
First off, motherf*ck you and them n*ggas that you run with
Your whole squad fugaze, b*tch, your slum sh*t
Don't make me up this motherf*cker on some gun sh*t, you studio f*ckers
n*ggas talkin' dumb sh*t 'bout the R.O.C-A.F-E-double L-A (Roc-A-Fella, motherf*cker)
G-geah, the big fella back at it, uh
Big homie tells me that you n*ggas actin' sassy
And I ain't have to show my ass, in a minute
Pull out that duffle bag let's see what's in it
I got myself a uzi and a couple of 9's (Uh-huh)
A sawed off shottie and two pipe bombs (Kaboom)
Guess who stеpped in the room (Uh-huh)
A real livе gangsta, 'bout to act a fool
You don't gangbang, you get gangbanged
You wear them flags, twist your fingers, it ain't the same thing
Cause I know some true Pirus that really rep
And I ain't met a West coast n*gga that respect ya
Your whole squad bleed between ya'll legs, you n*ggas pus*y
If you don't think I'm who I is then n*gga push me
You rather box a bear in a phone booth 'cause f*ckin' with this here ain't what you want duke
It's Sate, Prop
Let me say it one more 'gain
n*gga Sate, Prop
Broad Street Bully, fresh out the pen, yeah
Ain't nobody warn you, I ain't for kids? (Uh)
And I will dump this whole clip on you from the sig
Don't make me go ape sh*t with this pistol
Don't turn this back and forth rap sh*t to a issue
b*tch, you rather tongue kiss a gator than come out your mouth sideways to this gangsta
Especially when I'm dumming on that bullsh*t
Somebody tell the pas, he's wanted at the pullpit
Another n*gga's laid to sleep
For f*ckin' with them n*ggas from the R-O-C, them n*ggas
Cyco-lic-no b*tch-azz n*ggas so when you f*ck the R-O-C, creep low