Over the course of the last five years, Racing Rivals has grown into one of the most hardcore racing games in the world. This loyal community has spent countless hours competing in millions of races in “winner take all” fashion – all in the name of Turf Wars and pink slips.
However, all good things must come to an end… After spending time evaluating Rivals and its future – we’ve decided that it’s time to move on. Simply put, the revenue generated from Racing Rivals unfortunately no longer covers the cost of operations. This was not an easy decision to make.
On March 31st, 2019 – Rivals will be racing off into the sunset, and will be permanently shut down. Current players have until this date to utilize any accumulated virtual currency. We’ll be offering some massive reductions in the cost of crates, installs and repairs in addition to a reduction on timers as you race your way into the history books. Effective immediately, no new in-app purchases will be permitted.
In closing, a resounding and sincere THANK YOU to our extremely driven fans for your loyalty and dedication over the years – we hope you’ve enjoyed playing Racing Rivals as much as we’ve enjoyed creating it.
However, all good things must come to an end… After spending time evaluating Rivals and its future – we’ve decided that it’s time to move on. Simply put, the revenue generated from Racing Rivals unfortunately no longer covers the cost of operations. This was not an easy decision to make.
On March 31st, 2019 – Rivals will be racing off into the sunset, and will be permanently shut down. Current players have until this date to utilize any accumulated virtual currency. We’ll be offering some massive reductions in the cost of crates, installs and repairs in addition to a reduction on timers as you race your way into the history books. Effective immediately, no new in-app purchases will be permitted.
In closing, a resounding and sincere THANK YOU to our extremely driven fans for your loyalty and dedication over the years – we hope you’ve enjoyed playing Racing Rivals as much as we’ve enjoyed creating it.
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Comments
IGN fortex2
IGN rip Datsun
http://forums.racingrivals.com/rivals/discussion/5353647/fortex2s-vouch-page#latest
**** you tools
**** you're lame
If giving a **** means sucking up then **** it, **** the fame
A bit unstable, **** you brain
A bit like Abel, **** you Cain
Dumb little ****, if I'm **** something up then **** my name
**** the politicians
**** missionary missions
**** beauty competitions
**** bigoted traditions
I **** hate that shit I do
and if you don't **** it, **** you too,
couldn't give a **** who I'm talking to
**** who? **** you dude.
**** how I'm regarded,
or if I get bombarded
by sick creationists
who are borderline retarded
Yeah, **** me for my hard works, **** another hard word, **** me for my hard work that got me into Harvard
Man **** it, **** my past, **** the time **** it fast
If you think I'm **** with you then you're **** with your **** laughs
God bless you common cold, **** the pope, **** old, if he loved the poor than he would have sold his mansion made of solid gold
So **** him, yeah, **** it, **** him, I said it, **** it, **** him, gonna save the deacons, preachers, all them geezers, **** **** it,
**** the fashion scene it is so **** obscene, it will take a poor fat teen chick and make her turn bulimic
**** the shit that I came for
and **** the shit that I paid for
and the rappers that made a name for
calling for a race war
Now go out and pimp their rides, buy, accessorize, and turn ten thousand bright eyes to the company run by the white guys
You suck, you **** suck, you suck so much you suck, ****, if I sucked as much as you I'd motherfucking shut it up,
you suck, you **** suck it, so **** shut it, drop the beat, then pick it up like Mr. Bucket.
You've got sticks and stones to turn to
But I've got words to hurt you
So save your bullets cause you're **** (totally ****)
You've got sticks and stones to turn to
But I've got words to hurt you
So save your bullets cause you're ****
You're ****
(so **** it, so so so so fuh so so so so **** it)
You think you're clever? You're ****!
You think you're better? You're ****!
If you've been better for forever, but whatever, you're ****!
So, tell me never, you're ****!
And tell whoever you're ****!
And do whatever, say whatever, cause whatever, you're ****!
You think you're clever? You're ****!
You think you're better? You're ****!
If you've been better for forever, but whatever, you're ****!
So, tell me never, you're ****!
And tell whoever you're ****!
And say whatever, do whatever, cause whatever
You're ****
So ****
You're ****
Totally ****
Submit Corrections
Thanks to WE for adding these lyrics.
Thanks to Kat, Rebekkah, Bridget for correcting these lyrics.
A-Z Lyrics B BO BURNHAM Lyrics
"What." (2013)
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BO BURNHAM lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. "Eff" lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Copyright © 2000-2015 AZLyrics.com
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I **** your bitch
You fat motherfucker (Take Money)
West Side
Bad Boy Killers (Take Money)
You know who the realist is
niggas we bring it to (Take Money)
(ha ha, that's alright)
First off, **** your bitch
And the clique you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I **** your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
niggas **** for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for your jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't **** around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So **** peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
**** with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, see
[Chorus:]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
Who shot me,
But your punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you
bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
(ah yo, yo, hold the **** up)
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of you nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Sherm high
niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you **** with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim is you
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the ****?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D. I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia clique
Dressing up trying to be us
How the **** they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna **** with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're **** with me, nigga?
You **** around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the **** up
Before you get smacked the **** up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
**** you and your mother **** mama.
We're gonna kill all you mother fuckers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother **** opinion
Well this is how we gonna' do this:
**** Mobb Deep,
**** Biggie,
**** Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother **** crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then **** you too.
Chino XL, **** you too.
All you mother fuckers,
**** you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers,
**** you, die slow motherfucker.
My four four (.44 magnum) make sure all your kids don't grow.
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us.
We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California, nigga
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother fuckers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothing but killers
And the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us.
Our shit goes triple and four quadruple
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckin' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it
We the realist
**** 'em.
We Bad Boy killers.