Hawk - Nigga What Lyrics

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Artist:	Hawk
Song Title:	Nigga What
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f/ Lil' O

(*Talking*)

Southside, H.A.W.K.

Throw them hands up

[H.A.W.K.]

I'm a H-Town nigga, representing Southside

Sitting on chrome, and my body frame wide

Wood block guy, sitting on buck eyed

See a pair of thick thighs, ask her do you wanna ride

Of course she do, so she jumped right in

Cause it's her first time, even sitting in a Benz

Five hundred series, with the light blue lens

And you can hear the wind, whenever the rims spin

Sitting in my low, and we watching TV

She said ain't you Big H.A.W.K., from the S.U.C.

Of course it's me, can't you 20-20 see

And plus the vision from my chain, had your vision blurry

I could tell by her eye, she was captured by the fame

Said she loved it, just spell my name

She was on dang-a-lang, cause I could rap and I could sing

And I could tell she was lame, to this grown man's game

[Hook: H.A.W.K. & (Lil' O) - 2x]

Here's a little something for the boppers in the club (yeah)

All my real thugs, pulling up on dubs (yeah)

Throw your hands up, show a real nigga love

(nigga) nigga what (nigga) nigga what (nigga) nigga what (nigga what)

[H.A.W.K.]

Dead End ringleader, and I'm calling the shots

Use to push crack rock, till I hit the jackpot

Hidden in a stash spot, got the 4-4 cocked

Me and Jack we a team, like Captain Kirk and Spock

I'm a former quarter sacker, ran with car jackers

Now a rapper turned actor, but still a pistol packer

Don't work for the cracker, unless it's for mills

Cause I'm funky than I'm fired, won't pay my bills

Showing skills make mills, with the lyrics I spill

And I'd be in jail, if looks could kill

Cause I love to make do', love to spit flows

Whether rain sleet or snow, like Black Rob on Whoa

Ten G's a show, if you ask for promo

What's up Big H.A.W.K., well the answer is no

Gotta go gotta go, cause it's crunk in the club

Got everybody screaming, nigga what nigga what

[Hook - 2x]

[H.A.W.K.]

Now it's the last verse, so it's a must I wreck

For my day one niggaz, on them grey cassettes

Cause I'm far from a rookie, I'm a certified vet

And I ain't even broke a sweat, cause I ain't finished yet

Even got all the haters, jumping all up on it

And everytime you see me, it's a Kodak moment

Now sticks and stones, won't break my bones

And since Fat Pat gone, I'm gon add to the throne

I'm the General in charge, so call me sire

And after this plateau, it don't get no higher

I spit rapid fire, and I don't misfire

A lyrical high wire, hotter than a blow dryer

As I start to perspire, from this verbal assault

My career will catapult, and it ain't my fault

I'm too hard to swalla, and too big to over look

And the best way to end this, is with the hook

[Hook - 2x]

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