Bad Newz - Big Tuck

Yeah-yeah, the brat-bull huh

For real-for real, for real-for real

I’m bad news, (bad news)

I’m bad news, (he bad news)

I’m bad news, to you motherfucking fakes

(it's the Hurricane Tuck), and I’m tearing up the state

Keep it real for my niggas, but I’m in for them snakes

And they hate cause I’m great, and the mic’s that I break

Money that I make, keep these broads in a daze

(and I rumble in the club), like I’m fresh out a cage

Put the lock on the K, so you best to behave

(you don’t want it with me boy), cause I’m wild with this gauge

It’s Big T-U-C-K

(who), T-U-C-K

I ain’t playing wit ya, (playing wit ya)

I ain’t playing wit ya, (he ain’t playing wit ya)

I ain’t playing wit ya, (playing wit ya)

I ain’t playing wit ya, (he ain’t playing wit ya)

When you see me in the club, it’s bad news

Come out creased up, from my cap to my shoes

Represent the money, but he finna get abused

All these diamonds, they don’t think I’m playing by the rules

We got teeth that really bling, jack-up some bezeltynes

Glocks with scopes and beams, foreigns and everything

Bigger than dinosaurs, scar ya and leave you sore

Slugs that hurt like pores, why just because

I’m so raw so street, so off the chain

Jump on the track, and go head up with a freight train

Thanks to the Marines, I’m a killer but well trained

Fight for green, like a mascot for Notre Dame

I’m so sick with it, you don’t like it deal with it

You want it go and get it, now fire come and get it

You fin’s to meet your maker, the lyrical undertaker

C-4 pass detonator, bad news to a hater

Then leave the hook, the crowd done jam

Got a pineapple bomb, under the seat in the slab

I’ll give you a skeet taste, but you’ll die from a dab

When it’s crunk on your hands, it’s bad news you have

Bad news… he bad news

Bad news… he bad news