No Country For Young Men Lyrics

Many motherf**kers criticize pros and how they play
And many motherf**kers criticize rappers and what they say
Even though they criticize, secretly they fantasize
But they know they'll never paid be to play

I'mma kill one of you young punks
With a old school flow

Though I walk through the shadow of death
I gotta make sure that my shoes and my outfit fresh
You bitches get jealous when you see me coming
Y'all would too if you see my woman

Y'all know what we 'bout to do
This shit here 'bout as sick as the flu
Drunk motherf**kers wanna vomit on my shoe
Niggas can't have shit prolly 'cause of you

Rappers go to jail like Oprah go to Yale
Steffan policy, don't ask, don't tell
Where my water-bees as I go get the mail?
Half black is the new black, can't you tell?

It was blue-black like Wesley Snipes in new jack
Now you got to have a white mama just to do that
Tiger Woods, he used to be a safe nigga
Go ahead and let your daughter have a date with him

He'll make with her prolly in a wife-beater
Tiger 'bout to change his name to cheater
I don't like it when you call me Big Poppa
From South Central and I hate helicopters

If we at school, I'll break in your locker
See me with a water bottle mixed with some vodka
Drink responsibly or drink constantly
Be who you wanna be in this economy

Drunk as Sean Connery at the finery
Can't throw me out, motherf**ker, I'm the honoree
Trust me, I'll never be the nominee
I don't kiss enough ass, I'm too honery

Ice Cube, be where the piranhas be
Swimmin' upstream, eatin' all kinda meat
West Coast treat it like hyenas
Take what you want from these lying ass cheaters

Eat the f**k out these big cat beavers
That's how we act when you don't wanna feed us
Crazy motherf**ker ever since I was a fetus
Might as well join us, you ain't gonna beat us

Please believe us, you can ask Jesus
I'mma be here 'bout as long as Regis
Understand, I never pledge of allegiance
See this ball of confusion might cause a conclusion, boy

I see you're cruising for a bruising
f**king with a principal that don't like students
Don't you know that tension is a lynching?
And if I fail to mention then I'm spinning out my pension

The reason I home in
'Cause this right here ain't no country for young men
Sunny, you done f**ked up the churches money
I'm red fox and you that big dummy

This junkyard was a empire
Y'all let it get overran by vampires
Most MCs is God damn liars
Like them supervisors working up McGisors?

Bitch, I'm not a dodger I'm a Laker punk
You's a f**king clipper, you can call me Jack the Ripper, cut you up
By your gizzard then down by your liver
Rooter by the tooter, gut you like flipper

Dipper y'all better treat me like the skipper
Head trigga, the air nigga
Air honkey and air critter
I come thourhg and kill every litter
(Like that)

No country for young men
It's just a ball of confusion

No country for young men
Your world is just an illusion

No country for young men
It's just a ball of confusion

No country for young men
Your world is just an illusion

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Songwriter(s): Darrell E. Jackson, Darrell Christian Jackson, O'shea Jackson, Rodney Lee Jackson
Publisher(s): Gangsta Boogie Music, Cutthecheck Megacorp Publishing, Universal Music Corp.
Record Label(s): 2010 Lench Mob Records, Inc All rights reserved Unauthorized reproduction is a violation of applicable laws Manufactured by Caroline Third Party,
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