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Death - Bitchez Wit Dikz lyrics
Intro: Jeru The Damaja
 Yes yes
 Check it out right here now, knowhatimean?
 Henryville, the muthafuckin bitchez wit dikz
 That's in the midst, 
 of the real brothers whose the true wonders
 Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that shit about this and this and that
 But fakin shit, I'mma drop it like this
 {Jeru The Damaja}
 Bad bitches and techs, and sound affects
 Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when shit get hec-tic
 Out in Brooklyn, too late you's a vick
 And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a bitch ass trick
 Pimps and players, no I'm not a hater
 Cuz I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain't pay her
 Shoutin youse a regulator, 
 soft like C3PO, but pop shit like Darth Vader
 For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy
 Your booty, when shit get raw you Doo like Scooby
 I'm snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies
 And let it be known, I eat ya'll pussies like a porno movie
 Dutches, chins, and hips get twist
 Drop that bitch with a dick, and get a nigga like this
Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel)
 You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 *bitch!*
 You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
 *bitch!*Death - Bitchez Wit Dikz - http://motolyrics.com/death/bitchez-wit-dikz-lyrics.html
 {Lil Dap}
 You niggas are like East New York waste, spit in your face
 Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace
 It's like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club
 Spit it out, ya hoes know what this shit is about
 Bitchez wit dicks, and make a nigga mad as shit
 Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York
 Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around
 Cuz these whole motherfuckers, wanna round are town
 Thinkin they down, but dont know BK grounds
 *bitch!*
Chorus
 {Miz Marvel}
 The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon
 Against half steppin, niggas is fake, 
 I scope them first impression
 Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion
 And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection
 Ya eyes cross like an intersection
 You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix
 Sold your soul for it's weight in gold bricks
 Bitchez wit dikz, with chips like chicks
 Only talk with snares and tits
 In the time of revolution, be the first to submit
 Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit
 Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix
 Won't admit that their style is rip and counterfeited
 Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target
 Thrown into the bottomless pit, bitchez wit dikz
Chorus
(bitch! scratched over and over)








