Strap Up lyrics

[Mr. Serv On]
I like to get that wild thing, street or city.
Huh? What ya'll bout?
Huh? What you bout?

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit
You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

Ya'll niggas call your self killas,
But ya'll don't know the fuck a killa is
Oh I represent my block and I don't give a fuck about his
I done been in the Bronx with Fat Joe and Big Pun,
And ain't no bitches on theirs
And I done roll through Watts where the mutherfucka killin
And never motherfuckin stop
Or in St. Louis, where a nigga break your muthafuckin' neck
And step in your chest nigga that's what the fuck I call respect
They ask me why the fuck I write these type of words
Go to Memphis nigga and ask every nigga
Why the fuck you steal so many quarter birds on the curb
Better yet, go to Chi Town and ask every nigga in the Y 100's
Friend Town or Madison Ave., why the fuck they wanna put they pistol down
Cause we soldiers nigga, with out a fuckin life
And I don't give a fuck what city your from,
Nigga put em up cause it's on tonight

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Houston, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Dallas, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Atlanta, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Miami, and I don't like ya

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit
You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

[Fiend]
I, from the gumbo, where some for, smoke till they humble
And when we rumble, and tumble, we strap till the sun go
Ratta tatta pow, on my gun go, learned it from my uncle
Get more then one shottie, maybe bout a trunk full
Our love goes, duckin po po's, hoes on the go go
Takin no no's, don't let the eyes close, with seven zeros
Gotta hero, and sista, me, and only me
Combat ready from the midwest to the California streets
Nigga's that only take the heat, bring loud and foster beats
Florida, Chi Town, to the Magnolia Leaf
If you wanna keep your teeth, and have respect when you speak
Represent your clothes and war that's hard as me

[Mr. Serv-On]
Strap up my tennis shoes, get choppers
Bitch I'm from Baton Rouge, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Louisville, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Birmingham, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Mississippi, and I don't like ya

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit
You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit
They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Bitch I'm from Streetport, and I don't like ya
Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers