Cold Summer cover

Respect Da Shield Paroles

USDA

Album Cold Summer

Paroles de Respect Da Shield

(feat. Roccett & 211)

[Intro: Slick P. talkin']
Haha!
You niggas wann' play, mayn?
You niggas wann' war?
We'll take you to war!
This tha shield mayn!
C-T-E mayn!
You dunno whatchu fuckin' wit!! (Phureal)

[Chorus:]
You niggas wann' play? - We got somethin' hot for ya
Osama clips, we got a 100 shots for ya (Brrraa)
USDA (Aye!), Respect Tha Shield!
USDA (Aye!), Respect Tha Shield!
You niggas wann' play? - We got somethin' hot for ya
Osama clips, we got a 100 shots for ya
USDA (Aye!), Respect Tha Shield!
USDA (Aye!), Respect Tha Shield!

[Verse 1: Slick Pulla]
It's the shield, who wann' problems wit the 4 letters (Who?)
Thunder storm, on ya block give ya bad weather (Hahaa)
All black hoodie, all black gloves leather (Leather)
MossBerg hitcha chest, lift ya like a feather (Suckas!) You gon' bump and I knock off ya face
Witout the clippers nigga, you can get a fresh fade
You loose-lipped niggas finn' to get buttoned up
The Shield's here nigga, time to straighten up (Phureal!)

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Young Roccett]
I'ma leave a man in abandon buildin', screamin' for The Lord
No feet no hands and includin' a broken jaw (Yup!)
Dress ya like a rapper so you don't feel left out
On the same shirt were got Kanye's chest out (Woo)
No goofy for the oozi, the semi-auto to mac 11
A.K. 47 leave his brains on the front yard
Infront of ya daughter, ya son or his grandpa
Hommies in the street deep, lookin' like a Trump squad
I'ma kill 'em, just gimme a clip
I got blue everywhere, like it's revenge of The Crips
Holes in ya body the size of a Bellagio chips
Yeah Roccett-Locs burner, boy as hot as it gits

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: 2'11]
Gimme everythang nigga, this the 2'11
Run upon 'em, pull the pistol out, my .87 (Cla-Clack!)
Blood money, yeah we cashin' out mills (Okayye!)
Disrespect The Shield and get killed (Chyeah!)
Nah, it ain't a game dogg, it's real in the field (Aye!)
X amount of shells pop-a-nigga like a pill
Top down on the old' school 'Ville
Chromed hunned spokes on the mothafuckin' wheels
Trapstar, I got work in the area (In the area!)
United Streets D-Boyz of America (U-S-D-Ayy!)
Betcha life dat'll MossBerg'll a burry ya (Burry ya!)
They gone have to call a coroner to carry ya (Hahaa)

[Chorus]