(Intro) Bronze Yeah! Still blowing these weeds Yeah! Stealing the grass, nigga! Yeah! Detroit Gun Rule
[Bronze Nazareth] Yo, born in the 12th month, angels felt cold, huh? Word to my old pop, keep venom like the cobra Grow wild in the open, to open bottles often Drink my pain away, it felt like coffins Cement often, rose just to spite me Reality hit hard like Ike T I'm on the porch shiesty Blunted, middle finger to the police Black hoody, when times get ugly, the street mad pretty Handle my city with my palm, nigga I'm grown "I gotta help keep the heat and the lights on" - (CEE-LO of Goodie Mob on "Thought Process") I'm flowing in but no money outta this microphone I recite a war poem by jumping over obstacles Same stanza have a stranger strangled vivid as Maya Angelou Tangible rhyme animal, hungry to eat Release on furloughs from my mind to follow God's feet I repeat like a broke record Habits that choke Leopards Lungs open like receivers Sung open wounds closed like them old voodoo healers While my niggas slammed on mausoleums The nausea will keep you scratching at the coffin top Causing gusts of poisonous wind drafts That make the neighbors call the cops 32 flavors I drop, at the speed of a Feather Get your shit broke like flower pots and Mayweather, nigga!
[Closeout: Floyd Mayweather (of Gun Rule) Quote]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
