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tear this bitch up - all-star (rapper) lyrics

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[chorus: all*star & yo gotti]
we bout to tear this b*tch up
we bout to tear this b*tch up
[?]
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up
i got the straps, and i ain’t sparing no n*gga
knock a motherf*cker out and blame it on the liquor
first n*gga get wrong, it’s on
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up

[verse 1: all*star]
squad [?]
i ain’t tryna talk it out
guns i walk with them, what the f*ck you talkin bout?
them n*ggas hating, i ain’t worried bout no hater
cash money stay on my mind, i’m all about this paper
see i was too busy getting money, buying cars
my n*ggas poppin bottles, hollaring out, crying hard
you might disrespect the gangster, but not all
and i got bond money, i ain’t worried bout a charge
i’m from the hood, man let’s get that understood
i’m walking round this b*tch like i wish a n*gga would
and i’m gone off that goose, no telling what i might do
security like “calm down”, i’m like “f*ck them too”
[chorus: all*star & yo gotti]
we bout to tear this b*tch up
we bout to tear this b*tch up
[?]
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up
i got the straps, and i ain’t sparing no n*gga
knock a motherf*cker out and blame it on the liquor
first n*gga get wrong, it’s on
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up

[verse 2: young buck]
all*star, i don’t really do this much
g*unit is the gang, we’ll hit them n*ggas up
hit the club in my house shoes, flank in my pocket
[?] security can’t stop it
he hating on me, but his b*tch love buck
if his ass keep talking, we gon tear this b*tch up
[?] that gangsta walk
and did you see that f*ckin chain that banks just bought?
i’m waiting for the same thing, it ain’t my falt
half of these rappers broke, that ain’t your cause
[?] layed on your back
yo gotti down with me, n*gga this is payback
[chorus: all*star & yo gotti]
we bout to tear this b*tch up
we bout to tear this b*tch up
[?]
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up
i got the straps, and i ain’t sparing no n*gga
knock a motherf*cker out and blame it on the liquor
first n*gga get wrong, it’s on
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up

[verse 3: all*star]
real as i wana be, n*gga you a wanna be
face it, you a hater, and you always gonna be under me
chain by the quarter key, charm bout a brick or [?]
10 on my wrist, and it’s what i got this pistol for
n*gga get to reaching, and his ass gon need a preacher
club full of wittnesses, but really i don’t give a damb
all imma tell ’em is that n*gga shouldn’t have tried me
a hundred on tjust to make sure they don’t hide me
my n*gga say take the charge, he was right beside me
[?] gotta hit him with the 9 piece
[?] in the daytime
all*star b*tchthat pistol in my waistline
[chorus: all*star & yo gotti]
we bout to tear this b*tch up
we bout to tear this b*tch up
[?]
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up
i got the straps, and i ain’t sparing no n*gga
knock a motherf*cker out and blame it on the liquor
first n*gga get wrong, it’s on
got a pistol in the car [?]
bout to tear this b*tch up

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