What Happened To That Dude - Lyrics - Z-ro

(Hook - 2x) What happened to that dude, what happened to that dude What happened to that dude He was bumping, so I slapped a patch up out that dude (Z-Ro) Y'all fellas, know what happened to that dude He ran up in my face, and he ruined my mood I couldn't let it slide, I couldn't let it go Couldn't let a ***, play me for a hoe Pulled out my 4-4, and I just bust Nan *** nan ***, will I ever trust Unless it's my people, unless it's my kin I don't love ***, but my people and my ends Put my ends in my safe, in a safe place I break a bone, in your *** face If you think I tell a story, if you think I'm lying Pull out my iron, and I commits to find Have a *** falling, off of his game If I hit a head shot, that's the end of his brain Simple and plain, ain't it This tool, will leave a *** wig painted Know what I'm saying, I couldn't be playing I sit on top of the roof, and start spraying At a *** head, leave a *** dead (*claps*), leave him bruised and red We don't give a *** mayn, that's a clap I put a ***, clip in my strap Bust at your back, bust at your front Then I go to the house, roll up a blunt That's how I do it, don't *** with fluid But I'ma be fluent like fluid, and I knew it One day, I get a platinum plack If you running up, you better back on back cause (Hook) What happened to that dude, what happened to that dude What happened to that dude It's your boy Z-Ro, and I'm way too rude (Z-Ro) I had to do it like that, and like this Had to break a bone, and make a *** wish I did it like this, and I did it like that A nursery rhyme, and still broke a *** back Like that, like this Hit it from the back, and don't quit *** *** you hoe, I'm all about my dough Standing on the corner, with my chrome 4-4 Maybe 4-5, maybe twelve gauge Trying my best, just to make the front page Put a homicide, on worldwide news If a *** chase me, I'll give him the blues Pull out my ***, power pellet Roll up the doja, and I start to inhale it Now I'm feeling fine, I'm really feeling fine I dropped me a eight, in a thunderberg wine Got a *** feeling like, I lost my dog Jump in my ***, and I boss my hog I hit the streets, the streets hit me back I checked my pager, it was time to attack The *** dope fiends, time to get money I want my bread, I want my honey I want my streets of gold, for I can walk on And a platinum walkie talkie, I can talk on Man, I'm feeling way too heavy A monster, so can't nothing scare me I'm unscareable, it's unbearable Man, when you hear me it's terrible Cause I be beating, on your *** nerve and Might be in the Bourbon, or Excursion It don't matter, cause I'm riding high Leaning to the side, when I'm sliding by All in your face ***, slapping Out the *** taste *** That's how it go, never been a hoe Try to take what's mine, and get a mouth full of flow (*talking*) Yeah, oh yeah, I'm feeling that ***, boys get the *** slapped out Your *** ***, what 3-2 say Yeah man, you bootleggers, we got all kind Of bootleggers out here though, you know I'm saying We gotta put a slap into them dudes You know I'm saying, these *** that sue boys For 150,000, like that's hurting my highsing *** I'm still rising, while you coniving You ain't shining, but *** I shine like a light All day all night, whether gun fight or fist fight Get the Roley on your wrist right, ***