Songtext Do this passion! Daz Dillinger

Do this passion!

You see my homies is killas..
(Kill, kill, kill, murder, murder, murder, murder)
(Kill, kill, kill, murder, murder, murder, murder)
(Kill, kill, kill, murder, murder, murder, murder)..

[Daz Dillinger]
See if you come my way, I roll with tec-9's, AK's
Murder machines, for where I hang and stay
Obey the laws of the street, 'fore yo' bitch ass get beat
And I'm hoein' and I'm only out to rob and cheat
Get your pistols and rags, nigga prepare to blast
It ain't no questions or discussion, get the dope and the cash
We came up quick, plottin' on real bitch shit
Three-hundred and fifty G's, three niggaz was split
Flippin' and servin' chickens
Any dirty work - I was down with it
A true soldier and I stay committed

[Chorus]
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You better get your strap cause when I see you we blastin'
And when we run up on you ain't gon' be no askin'
Cause me and my homies we just straight out blast

[Daz Dillinger]
I guess the war's on, get your soldiers and let's go to war
Put in work Death Row - even the score
Mini machine guns, grenades, and forty-fives
We crazy in the land where it's hard to survive
Catchin' niggaz slippin' if you're Bloodin' or Crippin'
On a mission blastin' niggaz if you all wit it
You see we bang for a livin', use the gun
Drugs and prison, niggaz doin' hella time
Roll with these scandalous niggaz
Back looped out, smoked out
Hit another one, I'm bombed out, smoked out
So we load and swerve in the glass house and we roll the street
My brand niggaz run up on you so we pull up the heat
I said "What's up?"... he replied with the wrong set
It's my duty and my job to put this nigga to rest
Boom, boom - shots from the tec rain out
Another wrong nigga dead, that's what I'm talkin' about
Niggaz yell my name out and say they gon' kill me
I ain't worried 'bout a thang, y'all niggaz can't kill me!

[Chorus]
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You better get your strap cause when I see you we blastin'
And when we run up on you ain't gon' be no askin'
Cause me and my homies we just straight out blast

[Daz Dillinger]
I kick off the war, with a calibur fo'- fo'
Knockin' down doors and niggaz wonder what I came for
Jumpin' out of buckets, dumpin' on them brand motherfuckers
Who claim for the fame, puttin' somethin' up in you bustas
Looped out, feelin' good no doubt
With a tec ready to put some motherfuckin' heads out
Servin' fools, pull around the corner
Slow down and jump out, to show you what I'm all about
I'm yellin' "Fuck you nigga!" and I hope you die
Showin' y'all niggaz how real gangstas ride
Come up workin' for birds early, busta young died early
Ridin' dirty with a gauge underage
Had to drop off the pump, that's when the real shit start
Y'all bitch ass niggaz ain't got heart, y'all cowards
We give it up, inject pain on niggaz and conversate with the trigger
Blast, escape, then get to dippin'
Set trippin's like an everyday thang, where we hang
Still Tha Gang, where we blast to maintain at close range
AK's, 357's, and tec's - all kind of shit
Catch you niggaz slippin' because we Crippin' on the set
Willin', looped out, your homie just got out
Dogg Pound 'bout to take you niggaz out

[Chorus]
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
(You see my homies is killas)
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
You see my homies is killas and we do this for passio!