Dez b*tchez lyrics

[Intro: DJ Squeeky]
Like this

[Chorus: OW7LAW]
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, no love for 'em

[Verse 1: Tom Skeemask]
I made them n*ggas stick 'em up, stick 'em up, fool, it's time to lay you down
b*tch, the f*ckin' scope is comin' from the f*ckin' underground
Blast from the past whats my f*ckin' name? It's Skeemask
n*ggas Of Destruction had to get that motherf*ckin' last laugh
Disrespect my pimpin', I'm gonna have to catch you with a motherf*ckin' slug
Fool, you should know, that was aimed at your f*ckin' mug
Time to catch this n*gga slippin', talkin' all that weak sh*t
You got some ana' on your chest? Bring it to the f*ckin' streets
Check out my nine, look at my ride, put a sissy
Motherf*cker straight from the [?] line
Do you know the f*ckin' sko or should you know the f*ckin' time?
You and yo' momma's talkin' sh*t, both you b*tches finna get lynched
With me and my n*gga MacKyle from the N.O.D. gangster clique
'Zno got the forty-four, TEC got the nine millimeter, fool
[?] come and pick up the rest of the f*ckin' crew
Dawg, I'ma holler as I'm chiefin' on a f*ckin' blunt
Put the b*tches in the trunk 'cause there's no love for the punk
These b*tches
[Chorus: OW7LAW]
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, no love for 'em

[Verse 2: OW7LAW]
Oh, it's so early one Saturday mornin', po-po's breakin' in my front door
My brand new Nike Airmax tiptoein' and pulls up and across my bedroom floor
So high, smoked out, runnin', stumblin' towards the front door
Ho, livin' in Dixie Homes, got me flyin' from the second floor
Outside I hear that blue was lookin' try to find me
When I hizzeard one of the po-po' five-o's speakin' a' mention a robbery
That Outlaw committed the night before, that buster must have slipped, put them [?] on
n*gga while stuck up that fizzool and kicked him off the bridge
Vamp in the scenery, low profilin' to my hideaway
I plotted me a scheme so me and that b*tch must snitch that ho done made my day
Times pass, hollow-tip bullets will clip in the type of the forty-fours
I'm stangin' out my [?], I'm slippin' on a mask, no fingerprint, gloves on
Steppin' and whippin', this pimpin' a pistol, b*tch
I slip in the window
So slick, I creep, he sleep, a rude awakening on that hizzo
Kinda like I actin' like a psycho, stizzupid b*tches make me clizzick quick
I pull the hammer, slammin', ain't no love for a snitchin' b*tch
[Chorus: OW7LAW]
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, no love for 'em

[Verse 3: Thugsta]
I gots no love for these b*tches, and I gots my reasons why
I had this b*tch, who I thought was straight but set me up to die
Well, my story goes like this, G
I had this Westside b*tch, see
But my n*ggas was always sayin', that she was droppin' off the pus*y
But my young, dumb ass was in love with this trick b*tch
And I never figured that a trick b*tch would ever put me in some f*cksh*t
(Man, was that pus*y fat?)
Damn, she were good, I was thinkin' with my di*k head
But thinkin' with my di*khead got me f*cked up with the feds
That b*tch sow me out like a goin'-out-of-business sale
Eight years in jail and you can't make bail, locked down in this f*ckin' cell
I promise, when I get out, I'm gon' murder that b*tch
Hit the jug with the main lick [?] on my f*ckin' sh*t, finna put that b*tch in the ditch
White is the mask, gripped up to the house with the grip on my forty-four
Kick down the door, looks on the floor and guess, who I saw with the ho?
The captain of the feds, gettin' head, this forty-four blowed 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches, I got no love for em
[Chorus: OW7LAW]
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, these snitchin' b*tches
No love for 'em
These b*tches, no love for 'em