Buck Em Down - Black Moon

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

To the weak, what we do, buck em down, word life

Each and every nigga whenever I’m in the sight

Let my nigga Dru peep your style for your card

Then I kick a verse and take a look at the God

God hit them niggas with a verse real quick

C’mon God niggas is all on your dick

You know what they say about niggas who ride dicks

Upstate niggas become chicks, word life

I ain’t bullshittin, ask my nigga Buff

On the streets he was tough locked up he was sweet stuff

Shit is hot, word to Ma Duke

And get the loot from the man kick his ass with my Timberland

Shorty with the Shots that I Buck with fuck with

Gang hanger with the double-edged banger

And I got niggas clingin my drawers

Niggas fake I’mma bust a cap fuck that I’m breakin jaws

I’mma bring it to your chest like, wind

Fill your fuckin lungs up with all the bullshit from within

But I’mma put it back so parlay

To the weak in Bucktown all we do everyday

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Niggas tell me chill when I kick it

Although my shit is wicked, it’s all about the blunts and how I lick it

Or how I shot a nigga in the mug

With the slug leavin white chalk all on a pitch black rug

You couldn’t tell me other word to mother

When I was 15 runnin around I was the real street lover

On the corner out shootin the dice

Layin up, gettin nice, talkin bout a heist

GQ headin up to one-two-five

Push up on a shorty lookin live on the prize

I couldn’t get the time of day when I was Little K

Now you call me Buck so your lips wanna puck?

Fuck that bitch, I know your X amount of thoughts

But they call me Buckshot Shorty cause I take no shorts

Word to the shell around my chest

Big up to all de massive rudebwoy pon deck

So if you see a weak nigga speak to that bastard

Or I’mma hit his ass with the motherfuckin plastic

Word life, I ain’t bullshittin

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

When I was in school I was a mack

Shorty was strapped with ill lyrical contact

Knapsack, filled with the shit that I G’d

And a nickel bag of weed, yes indeed

A mad little nigga runnin up on em all

Fly as hell, hit the park play the wall

And all the older people sayin Shorty’s a bad-ass

But youse a smart little nigga so you gonna last

They knew the time and they knew the rhyme woulda

Hit you in at least four years, so I came to split ya

In the nine-three it’s all about me

Ninety-four ninety-five that’s my years fuck it I’m takin over

In nineteen-ninety-eight I couldn’t wait

To get all my niggas and do shows from state to state

Now I’m the motherfucker that’s givin instructions

Fuckin with them niggas Beatminerz on productions

Welcome to Bucktown, U.S.A

Where the weak niggas get this shit everyday

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Buck em down, Buck em down

Aiyyo, this is goin out to all the real niggas

Who buck down the bullshit, you know what I’m sayin?

On the real, rest in peace to my nigga Butta

In Coney Island, shit is mad real out there

You know what I’m sayin?

Buckshot Shorty

Five F-T, my DJ Evil Dee

Mr. Walt, all my niggas in the motherfucker

You know what I’m sayin?

Smokin mad blunts

And just chillin.

So buck down the bullshit in ninety-three

Ninety-four, ninety-five, shit is ours

Black Moon, we out