Текст песни Mobb Deep - Hoodlum (feat. Big Noyd & Rakim)

Hoodlum - OST / Гангстер - Саундтрек
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Mobb Deep
Альбом: Hoodlum - OST / Гангстер - Саундтрек
Длительность: 04:16
Рейтинг: 842
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Partizan


Sometimes it feels like the whole world is against me and is it the Henny that bend me; I be in the zone Gazing at the walls, suppressed, thinking da phone They take it personal, but only a minor few can understand what a nigga feeling; 40-first 'til I die motherfucka..(No doubt) I'm still breathing. You a must son, we full bread You ain't my dogg, tring to infiltrate my clik is you I get wit you, handle that on a later note. We o'er-dose eveything is death, we so close I'm trying to tell these cats, but I let them do they thing.. Ready for the bad news 'til da phone ring Son is dead, now I'm irate over my head seeking revenge. Son is dead, son on your behalf trying to laugh Check out the drill-dun, conceal guns For real son's leaning back checking out the action On the benches we drinkin X's Yo twirl dat shit, while I spark this... Sharply burn it down like an arsonist Pull out the miz cause its time to bring the biz to kidz and blow all hell fire out ya empire Live as wire couldn't make my mobb expire or retire I'm letting off 'til my arms tired You set quite wit my head full of riot. Our buyers, it clear for your ear to hear I declare only live niggaz lock this year '96-I lost my dun; '97-It got worse.. Pull money out the team, got to get mork.. And sat down you play the background when shots sound off Flashbacks of how my man is gone, KB forever in my memory I spill some Henny then I keep it moving Yo, do our thing, we got this, rockin' this Aint nobody stoppin this Rakim and Imfamous Reck the hood for you and yours-No doubt crash the bars You don't really wanna go against the source Surprise open eye, peep the foulness, wildness Its bug, niggaz dug in the projects you holiday thug Ease up all that illin and grillin get ya melon lite up, you niggaz is butt You want me, I'm reppin WB, what? Where you find me at sippin Congac from a cup With my heat next to my nuts Never been afraid to bust Slug rushin to your head like dust If that wasn't enough as long as strong and tough we squeeze back, better believe he no longer breath-black Fuckin wit these Queens cats I got dreams of raising my little queen and nobody gonna stop that In fact black, if you come at me don't come sloppy All my baby girl got is a papi to guide her through this world of hatred And I die to see that she make it and die to let the nextman take it, is you stupid, UM... Yo, you wanna come test, son it's massive stress Penalties of death, pay your last respects We harass your rep if you slept or half step We adapt to see what we can master next After sex pass the bless for after effects Relax through stress, do math and set, mad connects Cash the check to get assets we blast techs Dealing with the mental aspects in chess So retreat your troops, if you Dunns come to shot Get greeted by a twenty-one gun salute I keep 'em leary of the deadly "7 MC" theory Soon as they hear me, I release "Lyrics of Fury" And quick to say a poem that ricochet in your dome My click made me leave the nickel-plated at home alone So I can get the cheddar and be the better trend setter The 18th Letter Forever, what
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