Come On Lyrics - Boot Camp Clik

Come on, BCC, come on, MFC, come on, BCC 

Come on, yeah, aiyyo Rock, Rock, Rock 

Everybody say Rock, not Lou from suburbs to PJ's 

So watch ya hootchie, groupies get dudes beat up 

Or heat is leave the scene and blaze to get ya fleece stuck 

See me on the streets 'bra, I'll break yo' teeth up and take yo' beeper 

Two piece your man and let Big Noc put him in a sleeper 

Then see ya, catch me in a club on a wall 

Spliff in my hand, big booty broad winin' on my balls 

Surrounded my thugs, maybe two or two times ten 

Plus the other nine cats, my rapper card got in, your rapper card 

Yeah, my rapper card, it works in live sessions 

Plus barbecues, hoes, clubs, weed spots etcetera 

Buckshot, rock knots wit fists 

Niggas stay high while I rock wit this 

Mobb on y'all niggas like the Infamous 

Too close wit the dillinger, two shots, I don't miss 

I'm wiggin' out while I'm diggin' out backs 

Run from the gun claps, run three laps 

Perhaps, them niggas you sent to carjack 

Buckshot got stopped in they tracks wit macs 

Now this is what I act like when I smoke on black 

Stay high wit the lazy eye, bomb wit facts 

From the street Bible or the street Quran 

Fake thugs ride the dick when my shit comes on 

I'm a nappy little nigga, still goin' strong 

You can eat a dick while I eat a thong, Clue 

But still the bomb 

It's the wave king, rock the two tone Wallees strip-ons 

Don't wanna end up miss-on, then play your positi-on 

My grimy Brooklyn niggas stay flippin ya chick 

While my crew from New Jerus stay vickin' ya whips 

Tek is the shit, ain't nobody spittin' like this 

Deep impact steez been like a chromed out six 

Wit the AMG kit, Ericson wit the chip 

Y'all stockin' cap copycats, get off the dick 

I keep the livin' quarter held down wit two nines 

One in the bed, one in the bathroom at all times 

So while I'm takin' a shit, I'm at route and plan a hit 

The amount we flip depends on what we get 

It's like a wall street trick, dirty money move quick 

My mans wear stones, you can tip the scales wit 

On they ears and wrists alone for every deaf one's bone 

Look, ain't no tellin' how many gats I've thrown 

Come on, yo for all my dogs gettin wild 

Come on, yo yo for all the shorties on the prowl 

Come on, yo yo for all the soldiers on the streets 

Come on, yo yo it's yo' time to eat 

Yo the set I claim is the set that bang 

To the muthafuckin' end, I be doin my thing yeah 

Lidu Rock, know the name in New York we G stackin' 

First the bloods and the crips, now bitches is carjackin' 

Like my nigga Craig and 'em say, "Fuck that shit" 

Rockin' shines in the 'Ville, you better tuck that shit 

Or watch yo' step baby, watch where you walk 

I put a slug up in yo' mouth so that ass won't talk 

For real son, now we got mad cops on the block 

'Cuz we hold it down for Doc and I keep my heat cocked 

Lidu Rock, what the fuck, I know y'all niggas mad at me 

So if you rep for yours go 'head take a stab at me, muthafucker 

You a many style copycat, Bendy Mile, stockin' cap 

Fake nigga from the projects who ain't got a gat 

Ruck reign supreme, aim the steam 

When the gun click, your ass shit navy beans 

Maybe these, niggas ain't ready for the Magnum 

Force, the Holocaust, balls I just dragged them 

Off lost in the sauce and of course I'm glad them 

Monkey niggas don't fuck wit the Ruck, 'cuz they fags, son 

The last one, to step to Sean P caught a bad one 

Quincy toes tagged em after somebody stabbed 'em 

Cornball niggas wit drugs thinkin they weight great 

Still bummin' money for stoges and a Drakes cake 

Get it straight, y'all niggas fuckin' wit some heavyweights 

Boot Campion champions on point like paper mates 

Demonstrate, spectacular vernacular 

Smackin' ya upside the back of ya head wit a spatula 

Snatchin' ya, off the street like police 

Next week, they find your body washin' up on the beach 

Don't speak if you ain't at norm, ain't got nuttin' to say fool 

Tally on, be gone, as we rally strong 

See me in Brooklyn where crooks be armed 

Territorial disputes leave you in memorial suites 

Callin' your troops, I shoot straight stay in ya place 

We the type you love to hate 'cuz we stay in your face 

Sayin' our grace before we put our hands in our plates 

Carnivorous lyricist, niggas fish like fillet 

My mind spray like a murderer's nine spray 

The crime way, get mine three-hundred sixty-five day 

DJ Clue, the professional 

Part One, you know how we do it 

Word up, rest in peace my nigga Donnie Brasco 

My nigga B.I.G. word up and we out, till next time 

For all parties Big Skane 800-570-3657, aight then