Spark that shit up And lets fly Oh my people Heyyy ohhhh Ahhhh hooooo Eiiii heyyy
Verse one: sticky fingaz
I'm a hoodlum A dick in the dirt is what i'm holding Sporting mad polo but only if its stolen I got no morals my mind is in the gutter Kid i'll open up your face with my orange box cutter Soak you when you least expect it Before i met russel i only had a jail record Plus nothing ever hurt me when i was at home These evil streets got a mind of their own My pops left me for dead with just the clothes on my back I grew up selling crack And learning to drive a car jack I got street smarts and i use intuition I can spot an undercover with my x-ray vision And if anybody test me out there They gonna make me kill them and throw away my carear I'm my mothers first born, her last bad seed
Verse two: fredro star a.k.a. never
Its all about the next caper The cocaine, props and acres For the sake ah Snatchin the green paper Me and my crew roll in the zone of the twilight The news highlight When the next shit don't go right Its so tight its blazing A nigga squeezed hayz in Got 'em geezing for a runner Then the plot thickens On point like rod strickland Clocks ticking Makes the hardest niggas clicks stop ticking Hitting they stash And murdering like and expert Cover ya tracks And conceal that dirty shit
Chorus: method man
This is for the gun slingers Noise bringers This is for the crack slingers Bell ringers This is for the bootleggers And everyday beggers And all my hood hustlers who know where we headin'
Repeat 2x
Verse three: sonsee
Its all about the $50,000 cars Dice games and ice chains We out of the average niggas price range Rings and remy mixed with henny Chicks with fendi sucking disk in the infinity This nigga had mad deco Fucking petro the nickel metro blow All you heard was the gun echo On a dead nbight i get my head right Running red lights no headlights Pumping buddah in a black benz Pulling out mac 10's Its just the smell of fucking cigarettes Broke niggas with assed out Took 2 puffs and passed out Woke him up with 21 shots of penicillin Amped him up I guess thought it was hempacillin Yo chill kid lamp kid, chill kid you livin' Aye yo jb hit me one time
Verse four: method man
Its the blaze that be johnny Not many shots can do that ass raunchy Lyric to the muzak we rolling Watch out for the niggas that be holding Raunchy fucking up your colon Of course its tical Verbal assault We can walk these dogs through all 5 boroughs of new york Some talk While other individuals walk In my square tryin' to hide thoughts Spreading lies in my ears Got me questioning my peers That be show and prove they don't belong here I be the chef in hells kitchen Pop in the clip and hit the dj if the records skipping My competition gotta keep me at arms distance I know myself onion head niggas don't listen I shoot the what Got no time for that wiz bitchin' I'm about to blow in 5 seconds The clocks ticking consider this another mission Impossible as he gets hostile Uncut blowing up your nostril We there Come on take another if you dare The reason why its so raw cause its real I swear by the hairs on my chin chiggy chin To the day i die i represent the grimy niggas The ones who can't afford tommy hillfigger The down and dirty johnny fill niggas
Yeah
Chorus 2xTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
