Текст песни Fugees - Nappy Heads

Blunted On Reality
Жанр: Hip-Hop
Исполнитель: Fugees
Альбом: Blunted On Reality
Длительность: 04:29
Рейтинг: 1281
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Partizan


WYCLEF Why am I trapped in a cage? (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) Barber can I get a fade? (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) Teacher teacher check my grades (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) I grab the mic in a RAGE... You maintain to put a negro in pain you used to diss me "You sure you wanna hang with old Eddie Kane?" (+The Five Heartbeats+) Ain't nuttin wrong, so snap your head to the song Word is bond, you get wrong, I'll have you sing like Louis Armstrong And I say to myself, WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD But what the f**k was so wonderful bout pickin cotton -- on a farm? The harder they come, the harder they fall, so come one come all Don't stall or I'ma stick you like a voodoo doll Doors locked stop draw for the count, who drops? Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-two-one- -you-slept-on-a-kid-from-the-boondocks Out of Hooterville land of the ill kill Bellsburg Viking so you know I'm top ranking Phil Some say newcomer like the yuma but save the rumor Cause I've been rockin ever since eighty-three when I used to rock my Pumas Rap, narcotic psychotic so hear the sentencin One out of ten, I'm passin the mic next time I'll get WICKED Heard the man who went before, got intimated You tried to gas me up, too much gas, you got intoxicated You wasn't ready for the real'n, dealin, chillin Wyclef, no competition when I'm bringin pure death I'm jumpin like a monkey to get mines off a-from a caterpillar, to the mic moth (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) Teacher teacher check my grades (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) I coulda sworn I had an A (THE NAPPY HEADS ARE COMIN OUT) I grab the mic in a RAGE... PRAS You put, one and one together now you think you a rapper Baseball cap backward, forearms swingin like a hip-hopper You do the rhyme, thinkin no one can stop ya I be the followin that chop ya down as I clock ya, hah When I say five-oh, I mean fifty not guns or cops Now here's the heavyweight knocker, the freedom fighter Natural rhythm rock a mic I always rhyme I'm never drinkin vodka Any old style, I throw it in a locker LAURYN Well I'm a Gucci rocker, I never drank no vodka Me got no bag of cheeba cause I never had a knocker My cousin's name was Shaka, for short we called him 'Aka I flip it on wack MC's because to me they flow like caca
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