Pointing Fingers Lyrics - Singles - Harlem World

Yo, only got twelve bars so let me cut to the chase 

Fuckin' with Stase, I caught a buck in the face 

I got the set me up, everybody's drinkin' Henney 

Kid named Timmy actin' friendly 

Grabbed her by offending, sure hurt 'cos his game didn't work 

He didn't know the alcohol's about to get him merc 

He tried to French kiss her yo, that's my man twin sister 

Swung on him, but he threw the toast in my ear 

I should have known he had people posted in here 

So I waited till the coast was clear 

And when he walked off, I put four in his rear, yeah, yeah 

Yo, Hud is the type, give him an inch? He takin' a yard 

'Cos see, he the type of cat that be thinkin' he hard 

I told him if he gonna come, he got to come by eight 

But Hud don't never listen what I say 

He always do it his way, instead of our way 

That's why he always caught up in some damn foul play 

Talkin' 'bout I said at nine, he killin' time 

And he ain't checked the time on his wrist 

He probably somewhere lying to a chick 

Talkin' 'bout he rich, no, it ain't right 

How he gonna' leave my big brother Mase and jell overnight 

He wouldn't sell us out or yell us out 

But messin' with Hud, we ain't even get to bail him out 

I can't believe this nigga Hud tried to blame it on me 

We on the I-95, three jars on my seat 

I'm hopin' cops don't be prejudiced, if not we don't eat 

You know what that mean, shut up Hud, keep drivin' the jeep 

We got about ten miles, we don' did ten states 

I should have stayed, knowing Hud? He gonna' gas you to stay 

I'm tellin' Hud, yo, pull over we ain't pissed since Penn State 

The windows all foggy, plus we got temp plates 

Now Hud steady streetin', not listenin' and yappin' 

Smokin' Buddha straight from Cuba, 'bout to wish this ain't happen 

I ain't tryin' to point no fingers but it's all Hud's fault 

If he wasn't speedin' with no weed we would have never got caught 

Cardie, when you gonna' grow up? You need to get chips 

Stack dough up, switch your flow up, 'cos your single was a donut 

Baby Stase, need to learn to stay in the place 

And Mase, that's your twin, tell her stay out my face 

And Loon, that's my man but he floss too much 

He wanna hang out, 'bout, but he cost too much 

And Meeno, that's my dog, but he talk too much 

And Blink, fake pretty boy, soft as butt 

Oh damn, if I get touched, we gonna' all get touched 

Go against Harlem World and we gonna' toss you up 

Hey yo, Meeno, hey yo, this is Cuda man 

There go Loon tell him what you told him 

You was gonna tell him when you see him 

Yeah, yeah, playboy, my man Loon 

Went out like a straight buffoon 

For a pretty face, a slim waist, sweet perfume 

Can't believe this shit 

Second week in June, second night in Cancun 

Pop Cris' by the full moon and the stars is bright 

Pray to God that I catch me a slide tonight 

But of course, Loon gets drunk then starts to floss 

Runnin' his yap 'bout the same chick he toss 

Same chick from tour, all I got was jaw 

He's all in love, seen it all before 

Sucka' for love, this is man for a whore 

And until this day, still goin' to war 

Hey yo, you just mad 'cos my chick drop dead 

And you mad cos I went to Cancun got head 

You fed, 'cos I'm doin' it and gettin' more bread 

Why your block hotter than a nuclear warhead 

You more fed 'cos my pockets are stacked up 

While you spend most of your day baggin' your cracks up 

You fat fuck 

Hope you get hit by a Mack truck 

And don't come around forty and front and get tapped up 

Cracked up, can't wait till this album is wrapped up 

I'm take you to a vacant lot, dare you to act up 

So strap up, 'cos I know you don't like me 

But just know you won't get a chance to fight me 

Loon, all out