Big Business
Tear Da Club Up Thugs
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Big Business Lyrics

(lord infamous)
You got thugs on ya spot,
Fresh out the box,
The crowd so live,
They comin' in flocks

'cause, it's big business, it big business bitch
It's big business, it big business bitch (x2)

(lord infamous)

As I cut, guts poor
Blood washes from the shore
To da sand, as a thousand veins,
Center through my hand,
Can I whip, stand a man
From the underland of pain
As his brains, hit the grains
And I bury the remains, from my face
Pissin through a bitches ? ? ? ,
Infamous bring out the sack of the serial killas
Triple six murderers
Now leave it enough, whenever you come
They be ready to cook, now rev up the hood
And these niggas could to be these infamous could
And the mafia villains would f*ck up a rookie
Drop him to his knees wit a n-i-n-e slugs, get done
And bloody up your mug
Because we really love to make a stand
It's the high capitol make me touch a man
I got the scope, and not the kind that kills bad
I got the kind that like to f*ck up ya good health
Everybody in this bitch lets tear some shit up
Tear da club up thugs
On ya spot, put'm up

(repeat chorus 2x)

(d. j. paul)

I kill, kill, kill
I murder, murder, murder
Hater's in my face,
Watch a nigga hurta
40, 40, cal,
I pull out my back pocket
I grab you by your neck,
I pull it out a socket
Range, range, range,
Rover, rover, rover,
Blow this f*ckin' task
Police pull me over
But I blast on these hoes
Cause I'm too f*ckin dangerous
Prophet the posse,
I doubt you hoes could hang wit us
Killin all you nigga's is a easy task
You fools that last,
I bullet proof a mazz on dat ass, I dash
To yo muthaf*ckin crib,
Soon as I find out where you live
Flashlights see yo face
Mario a murder case
Roamin through the muthaf*ckin black haven area
Prophet is my posse, I doubt you see something scarer
Plenty talk shit, but they ain't nothing but
$100,000 cars now how you gon laugh at us

(repeat chorus 2x)

(juicy j)

First I wanna grab a nigga by his neck,
Drag him to my f*ckin set,
Take a nigga blow, and his cheese, and dem cigarettes
Put the gun up to his nose
Tie him up from head to toe
Strap his body in a bag
Throw him in a fire
Call my nigga's dee and blue
Project pat, y'all know what to do
Creep through dem streets,
Wit dem thangs, blast on any fools
Tear da club up thugs, in this muthaf*cker runnin'
If you want to playa hate the click,
Then your done with
Know'n we ain't going bitch
Makin' fakers dig a ditch
Scare familys in the night
Make'm pull the panic switch
Comin like titanic trick
Holycaust wit a grip
Crazyndalazdaz I'm bout to have a f*ckin fit
Hold me back don't let me go
I'm high as hell and on the road
Nigga I break off in ya house,
And boot yo baby wit a pole
Lunatic superstitious, on the corner like I'm pimpin
If I see ya on the block, I'm f*ckin,
f*ckin wit the quickness

(lord infamous)
You got the thugs on ya spot

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Songwriter(s): Ricky Dunigan, Jordan Houston, Paul D. Beauregard
Publisher(s): Tefnoise Publishing LLC
Record Label(s): 1999 Hypnotize Minds Productions
Official lyrics by

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