We Pop (remix) Lyrics - Rza

We pop, we brawl, gettin' money til the day we fall 

Double barrel shotgun (blaow), pop son 

I told nigga, just not run 

I saw him on 205th in Fordham 

This dog was frozen, so my high heat thawed him (Wu!) 

I blown ya, you need a blood donor 

My bitch ghetto, like Florida and Laronia (girl) 

Laundry mat hoes, who want clothes? 

I flow checks, one followed by six o's (six o's) 

I got hoes, in codes, in different areas 

Four ton whips that's sittin' on interiors 

The bass shake in the club like it's earthquakin' 

I cock arm, pass the bomb, like Troy Aikman (Aikman) 

Play the basement like Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson 

You miserable, you get kidnapped by Kathy Bason 

Thrown to the dungeon, for your spongin' 

Of Wu Killa Bee, what's your total malfunction? 

We pop, we brawl, get money til the day we fall (yeah) 

My glock (my glock), my four (my four) 

throw shots through your bedroom door (bedroom door) 

From the P's, to the morgue, cop Louie all the way to my drawers (New York) 

We pop (pop), we brawl (brawl), get money til the way we fall 

Come on, let's cut the crap, money 

I've been gettin' this rap money 

Crack money, stack money, I'm tryin' to get that Shaq money 

That Mike Tyson, Michael Jordan, Michael Jack' money 

Five hundred mill' and better, dog, yeah, now that's money 

Act funny, ya'll make me laugh (haha) 

Frontin' like you tough, you softer than a baby's ass 

These lazy ass labels -- fuck you! Pay me cash 

My crazy path promoted me into a Mercedes class 

We pop, we brawl, get money til the day we fall (yeah) 

My glock (my glock), my four (my four) 

throw shots through your bedroom door (bedroom door) 

From the P's, to the morgue, cop Louie all the way to my drawers (New York) 

We pop (pop), we brawl (brawl), get money til the way we fall 

Yeah, all ya'll can see is the back of my jersey 

Blowin' in the wind, goin' back to Jersey 

Off to Brooklyn, left you back in Jersey 

I was doin' a buck 90 like a throwback jersey 

Shame on a Nigga, take it back to Dirty 

Run, game on a nigga, I'll be back in thirty 

Seconds, got the world's greatest record 

And that money I'mma spend it like your greatest record 

This Division, all the ladies respect it 

Disrespect it and the eighty'll check it 

It ain't hard to see how ya'll ignorin' the steel 

Niggas that I clap, lookin' for me still 

Til they look like they came out of George Foreman grill 

Thoughts are stolen on Free, must be on them crills 

Plus my, team gon' be holdin' like forty mill' 

Thoughts are rollin' on E., must be on those pills 

We pop, we brawl, get money til the day we fall (yeah) 

My glock (my glock), my four (my four) 

throw shots through your bedroom door (bedroom door) 

From the P's, to the morgue, cop Louie all the way to my drawers (New York) 

We pop (pop), we brawl (brawl), get money til the way we fall