Текст песни Royal Flush - Worldwide

Ego Trip's Greatest Hip-Hop Singles 1996
Жанр: Hip-Hop
Исполнитель: Royal Flush
Альбом: Ego Trip's Greatest Hip-Hop Singles 1996
Длительность: 04:14
Рейтинг: 523
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: AndrewCG


Intro: Lettin niggas talk that New York New York shit What the fucks the deal? No doubt motherfucker, what the fucks the deal man Faggot ass niggas, niggas in New York be lettin niggas shit on em Frontin ass niggas First you drinkin snapple now you drinkin Moe 'cause you livin aint no reason for you to be shittin faggot Word...Go getcha guns Some nights I wake up out my sleep blastin Get some water for my aspirin My life fashion, gold chains guns and cashin Im askin do I got to be king of action Fuck a playa fame New York is still the same A Queens thang Representin Flush reigns supreme Its a scheme over power ya team wit cream Man you sensitive, how you let these cats shit on your residence With fake robberies, who shot who wit no evidence Im bringin it, tired of niggas sittin back and seein it Scape thru the light penetrate streets is trife Representin from the lands of the guns and good smoke Heavy shines, poppin them lines and cut throats Don't provoke and getcha team smoke for broke and no joke You just a boy you not bad enough to compete wit challengers Bustin off the guns wit the silencers Word....New York New York big city of dreams Comin from Queens, where we don't get caught up in between Wit the nonsense, all these pussy niggas actin sex Takin off your chest, bring it to the desert where I rest South east to west, bustin straight slugs thru your vest Chorus Worldwide worldwide wherever people startin Keep your mind on Queens when the dog starts barkin Verse 2 Its time to dead your whole situation New York is full of murderers, guns and court cases Baggin wit razors bring me no-chaser That be that wasteland flavor Its major, vibratin thru the states like a pager Whose the one to blame When you get stuck for gold chains Shootin close range, half of these niggas died in the game Its a city game, blastin at cops by all means Keep it real thru out Queens Catchin jooks for cream On the tap phone, fuckin wit niggas that's far from home G-S's chrome, makin power moves like Capone Shits zone fuckin wit nigga Flush holds his own Guarnateed to blow, puffin on trees do I go Way low, kidnappin children for dough that's how it go Place a criminal minds traces are hard to find To commit crime, half of these niggas is droppin dimes Here the time, blowin your block just like a mine Flushing design, keep my neck flooded wit shine Im out to get it, you billed somethin sweet Go getcha heat and your peeps And findin body parts on the streets Chorus
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