Текст песни Mack 10 - Foe Life

True Crime: Streets Of L.A. – OST [Part 1]
Жанр: Rock / Rap / Hip-Hop
Исполнитель: Mack 10
Альбом: True Crime: Streets Of L.A. – OST [Part 1]
Длительность: 03:02
Рейтинг: 1282
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Stinkin_Masta

Текст:

Mack 10 nutty as they come Leave 'em face down And numb from the waist down It's a Sunday a gun day Rollin' down a one way In my 'lac front and back Over train tracks On yak and herb nigga swerve It get's on my nerves Banked my Danas on the curb In the gutta lane I'm butta man Foot to the flo' What you want from the sto' I'm broke as a muthafucka nigga buy my single Comin' from Ingle (Foe Life) is my jingle Seen yo' bitch at the sto' coulda took her But niggas start to handcuff they hoes like T.J. Hooker Fool I'ma vet you can bet That I can dance underwater and not get wet It's the nappy headed nigga that can kill and rap Everybody run when I bust a cap Puttin' Inglewood up on the map Look at what I do when I pull my strap Bust 2 rounds nigga about to clown Bitch hit the silent alarm it's goin' down Chorus Foe life foe life Mack 10 comin' through the hood with stripes (Repeat) Verse 2 Khacki suit ski mask is my attire With my luck cut my chucks on the barbed wire Fool where ya keep the rims and tires 'fo yo' life expires I'm as nutty as Michael Myers Didn't think about the Rottweiler A lot of stiches in the ass Blood in the Impala Sittin' in the County with a gold record Ice Cube send me pictures of bitches naked Caught with a contraband in my hand Mack 10 take the stand Your Honor I'ma changed man So please let me go so I can flow Got a show had to ask my P.O. can I go And if he say no I'ma have to say Bitch get out the car slow And leave ya fuckin' dough 'cause a nigga gotta eat fuck the world Let the bullets hurl and feed my baby girl Chorus Verse 3 Call 911 there's a son of a bitch on the roof Yarned up in his birthday suit (Mack 10 to the rescue) My momma wanna know why I do what I do 'cause I'm superman superbad supermad superfly Fool you can die There's gonna be a lot of cars with they lights on And I'm at home sewing stripes on Cause I'm the General and you's a stowaway 'bout to buck you down with this throw away With no serial number it's the summer Where niggas die It's hotter than July You better stay low fo' you get a halo Plus wings and a gown when I come around So take 10 paces And try to guess the color of my shoelaces Chorus with ad libs 'til end
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