For The Record lyrics

Shyne
( for the record )

Where he at, where he at?
Uhh
(repeat 3x)

[Verse 1]
Do he rhyme with a slur from some shots in his face
Or he rhyme with a slur tryna sound like Ma$e
Listen to his tape, this lil' n*gga used to sound like Case
Maybe I'm just trippin, maybe he just snitchin
See it a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton
What I see is straight bird, straight girl
Yea you be a killa, if you could kill with words
Gotta look at the facts and not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knifed
Who keep gettin' struck, but don't never strike
Hope the beef go away when the feds indict
I know yo card n*gga, it's so clear
You just wanna sell records you don't want warfare
You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
These n*ggas would've died if they shot me nine times
Hey it's just for the record
Take this mob sh*t serious, please respect it
[Hook]
And there go the shots they rip 'em apart
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
When muhf*ckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good with a slug and my heat held tight
Pray to God when I'm gone, this what he felt like
Finish my work on this earth n*gga turn off the lights

[Verse 2]
You ain't kill Hommo cause if you did
Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit
You know I know, that if you live
That sh*t that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
You a boxer n*gga, nobody got snuffed
Nobody got crushed, you screamin what what
Okay killa you is the sl*t
Think about it, enough is enough
Time to show who is who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you
When them n*ggas that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you
(not 1 body)
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs
Please no more Ghetto Quran
You got money now it's time to bomb
And that's just for the time
Take this mob sh*t serious please respect it
And there go the shots they rip 'em apart (2x)
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs

[Verse 3]
Death of perfection as I move without motion
Ain't a n*gga in this game do the sh*t that I'm quotin'
Good look you'll never see another me
Might be some other Gs tryna trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of old
You slit a fools throat tryna tell on PO
Rats shouldn't exist, f*ck a snitch
Cut off his di*k, put it on his lips
You really think I was gon' let you slide
f*ckin wit me you must be out yo mind
You really think Sha was gon' make things right
n*gga I'll hold shop till you lose yo life
I was mindin' my own, word got back, n*ggas talkin bout PO
I was like oh? God must be ready for this n*gga to go
Gangland, this is the mob
You got yo break come finish the job
Juss don't get the feds involved
And I'mma reunite you with yo moms
Rip
I guess this ain't just music
Cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless (n*gga)
And the b*tch n*gga knew this
That's why he tried to sign me to G-Unit
Tell 'em how you made me offers
( I don't run with that blood I'm a godfather)
Loved on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor
The feds I paid for that
10 years up top
Not 7 months shop
Walked the yard with bloods
Took the bus with cuz
Went gun for gun
I earned my love
You, you just pathetic
You'll neva be a G, despite yo efforts
Take this mob sh*t serious, you gon' respect it
Thats just fo' the record
[Hook]
And there go the shots they rip 'em apart
Gushes of blood comin' out of his lungs
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
When muhf*ckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good with a slug and my heat held tight
Pray to God when I'm gone, is what he felt like
Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights