For The Record Lyrics - Godfather Buried Alive - Shyne

Shyne 

( for the record ) 

Pshhhh pshhhh 

Uhh 

(repeat 3x) 

[Verse 1] 

Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face 

He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e 

Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like cake 

Maybe I'm juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin 

See a whole lot different when my sales ecliped 

What I see is straight bug, straight thoro 

Yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs 

Rather look at the facts not the hype 

Like who got shot and who got knifed 

Who keep gettin struck, but don't neva strike 

Hope the beef go away but the feds indict 

I know yo card nigga, it's so clear 

You juss want to sell record you don't want warfare 

You don't want to ride you want to get rich and hide 

These niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times 

Heyy it's juss for the best 

Take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it 

[Hook] 

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart 

'cause it's a blood comin outta his slum 

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry 

When they losin' their life 

When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night 

Pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight 

Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like 

It's my work by the surf when they turn off the lights 

[Verse 2] 

You ain't kill humma 'cause if you did 

Why you ain't get the pen after all of that hit 

You know I know, that if you live 

That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody 

Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut 

Yoo pac's a nigga, nobody got shot 

Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what 

Okay okay killa you'sa slut 

Think about it, enoughs enoughs 

I'm tryna show 'em whoes who 

And what is what 

I mean how can I respect you 

When them niggaz that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you 

( not nobody ) 

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 juss fo the top 

Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it 

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart(2x) 

'cause it's a blood comin outta his slum 

[Verse 3] 

Death of perfection as I move witout motion 

Ain't no nigga in his game doin the shit that I'm quotin' 

Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see enought of me 

Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me 

But I believe in the ways of old 

Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po 

That shouldn't excist, fuckin snitch 

Cut of his dick, put it on his lips 

You really think I was gon' let you slide 

Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind 

You really think jail was gon' make thinks right 

nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life 

I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po 

I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go 

I ain't lyin this is the mob 

You got yo break come finish yo job 

Juss don't get the feds involved 

And I'mma reunite you wit yo moms 

Rip 

I guess this ain't juss music 

'cause jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga) 

And the bitch nigga knew this 

That's why he tryed to sign me to g-unit 

Tell 'em how you made me offers 

( I don't want that blood I'mma godfather) 

Jumped on every street corner 

Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor 

The feds I paid fo that 

10 years up top 

I sell 'em much shop 

Both of ya was blood 

Took the bus wit 'cause 

Want gun fo gun 

I earned my lug 

You, you juss pathetic 

You neva bg, bespite yo average 

Take this mob shit serioue, you gon' respect it 

Tha's juss fo the record 

[Hook] 

And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart 

'cause it's a blood comin outta his slum 

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry 

When they losin' their life 

When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night 

Pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight 

Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like 

It's my work by the surf when they turn off the light