Title: Forest
Subtitle:
Artist: System of a Down
Album: Toxicity
Author:
Copyright:
Tabled by: Brandon Franz
Instructions:
Notices: clfranz@msn.com

Tempo: 150 BPM
Tracks: 2
Instruments:
Bars: 147

Lyric

Yeah, how many niggas that'll die for you?
How many get a quiche like the pie, wit you?
I ain't talkin' 'bout those that get high with you
Niggas know, if a red's on ya head, then they ride with you

How many niggas that'll die for you
How many get a quiche like the pie, wit you
I ain't talkin' 'bout those that get high with you
Niggas know, if a red's on ya head then they ride with you

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, I'm ma ride for you, would you ride for me?
Well, I'm ma die for you, would you die for me?
Obviously, we all know, you type of cats
Let they man get struck, never strike back
Stay in the street, seven days a week

Shit get hot, you never blaze your heat
Stupid motherfucker wanna play me sweet
So I keep 'em on his toes, that way he never sleeps
Bigger than the king and the pope, sling no dope
Call me anything but broke

When it's on, I guarantee my team don't choke
Want a war, you niggas better bring yo' force
And when I say we won't quit, believe this shit
When I talk about a Benz, let you see the six
And when I'm talkin' to a ho, let you meet my bitch
When puff talk, you niggas take heed to this

Yeah, how many niggas that'll die for you?
How many get a quiche like the pie, wit you?
I ain't talkin' 'bout those that get high with you
Niggas know, if a red's on ya head, then they ride with you

Yo, if you down to act, we came to scrap, we beef '89
Still watch your back, a nigga smack me, I'm ma smack 'em back
If it lead to the guns, then that be that and lately
Niggas that snake me, just make me wanna send 'em heat without AC
Thinks I'm sweet, taste me, how much you really want it?
Enough to put a mil' on it or your deal on it this year Cancun

Guess who I'm going wit, my own niggas, see, I pay my own trip
Make my own chips, I copped my own six, I knock my own shit
Like I'm on my own dick, my day be short, need coke, raid the fort
I'm knocked by the cops, come blaze the court and though niggas
Die for, go on the shelf, disrespect and spend like a man
Below your belt, me, I always had, so I never go for self

Had thousand dollar bills with Teddy Roosevelt, better slow down
Tellin' you now, put the dough down, kick your door down
Surround the block, where you go now? Fifty shots spit at you
And that is not a whole round way I leave the furniture
Think it was co-found, here's the low-down, messin' with Mase
Gotta go down what more could I say?
But hey, guess you niggas know now

Yeah, how many niggas that'll die for you?
How many get a quiche like the pie, wit you?
I ain't talkin' 'bout those that get high with you
Niggas know, if a red's on ya head, then they ride with you

Motherfuckin' right, I'm ma roll with my motherfuckin' dogs
Bitches ain't around when it's time to go to war
This shit here, nothing to fuck with I'm the same bitch
All y'all wanna try y'all luck with Lil' Kim spread like syphilis
You think I'm pussy? I dare you to stick your dick in this
Chrome 4-4, inconspicuous in the 6-0-0, shit's ridiculous

Speak when you're spoken to and only with permission
Like EF Hutton, when I talk, niggas listen
So don't y'all be mad at me, 'cuz I'm the Q to the B
To the motherfuckin' EE, copped my CD
Now all y'all wanna be me, see me on the T.V.
Beds will dip in 3D, peep the CD, chromed out and phoned out

My shit is paid for, your shit is loaned out, I gets it on
Money keep growin', ice fully glowin', plus I'm bad to the bone
In the danger zone, I hold my own when the pain is gone
Like a splinter I enter, so why should I throw my blows in those?
Do a bit upstate and take the weight for your troubles
My nigga BIG, I'm ma ride for but it ain't too many niggas that I'd die for

Why must we kill our own kind?

Yeah, how many niggas that'll die for you?
How many get a quiche like the pie, wit you?
I ain't talkin' 'bout those that get high with you
Niggas know, if a red's on ya head, then they ride with you