Текст (слова) песни: Brotha Lynch Hung - Secondz a Way

(first degree):

Shit done changed, the strip got bigger

To make my ends I got the wheel and the trigger

I get my swerve on with the 80 p liquor

The liquor bring out the nigga in this nigga

Got me huntin with my musket, barred down with substance

Bringin my ruckus to the rival fuckas in rival clusters

Im still givin birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady

Still mixin up with skeet sours, I like them heavy

Heavyll put a little bass in your voice

Yamps choice, no rolls royce but I keep it moist

I keep it saucy, ya bossy bitch talkin that costly shit

Bossy bitch think she too flossy to trip

Im first muthafuckin degree, not your average,

Ill have your boulevard hoppin

Poppin off when a baller pack a package of suckin

Fuck you fuckin up duck, stuck like chuck, now, now getcha dome in the trunk

As we donut, I dump, I seen too many moons, took the minds of too many bufoons

Fools with no clues that love to watch my aura glisten,

They still dont listen

I...i got pot thats hot to trot, cant stop, wont stop

I got lynch hung in my backseat sniffin for cops

I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time

So yall go home, light the smoke, its relax time

Chorus:

Now I apologize for smoke on my mind

I been workin hard and I got to unwind

About the j.o.a. stayin in my brain

But Im seconds away from goin insane

Now I need to lift away

(lynch):

Now you niggas know I come sick like a lunatic

Man, they must be high cuz they really dont know who they fuckin with

I used to have them all bombed out

Drink alize wine, then rhyme and smoke tweeds till we dropped out

I got the chop out, no doubt,

Cuz if it aint about rappin, gunplays gon happen

Cuz Im tappin at yo window, off that indo, more sacs than santana

Better check your antenna on your radio or your stereo or your video

Cuz Im not that pretty, but in the bedroom Im critical

You got your chance, now use

Hit you with the loaded album, coutesty of siccmade music

Evidently you got something against me

Dont you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of indo, killafornias best

Player haters die a slow death, slow death

Chorus

(ice-t):

I dont wear no chuck taylors and dont sag my pants

But I still lift the switch and make this 64 dance

More niggas with me now than I had in the hood

And they down for whatever and thats all to the good

Wish you would test my technique and heart, nigga what?

Nigga, fuck that, bitch nigga what? baby, duck!

What you wanna do now, ya bleedin from the floor

Nigga wanted beef, now he wants beef no more

Thats how Im coming 9-6, bitch, rich and mad

Hoes in bikinis, rag lambroginis, overseer runnin mad streets

Creepers with beepers and stash spots for glocks

And under car escobar style, buck wild, you been there, you know the terrain

Niggas go insane, tryin to get the green

Im just surviving on the streets with my peeps

And Im livin for the day I catch a punk on the creep, yeah

Chorus

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Меню » Главная » Музыка » Правила » В избранное	Музыка RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Текст (слова) песни: Brotha Lynch Hung - Secondz a Way (first degree): Shit done changed, the strip got bigger To make my ends I got the wheel and the trigger I get my swerve on with the 80 p liquor The liquor bring out the nigga in this nigga Got me huntin with my musket, barred down with substance Bringin my ruckus to the rival fuckas in rival clusters Im still givin birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady Still mixin up with skeet sours, I like them heavy Heavyll put a little bass in your voice Yamps choice, no rolls royce but I keep it moist I keep it saucy, ya bossy bitch talkin that costly shit Bossy bitch think she too flossy to trip Im first muthafuckin degree, not your average, Ill have your boulevard hoppin Poppin off when a baller pack a package of suckin Fuck you fuckin up duck, stuck like chuck, now, now getcha dome in the trunk As we donut, I dump, I seen too many moons, took the minds of too many bufoons Fools with no clues that love to watch my aura glisten, They still dont listen I...i got pot thats hot to trot, cant stop, wont stop I got lynch hung in my backseat sniffin for cops I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time So yall go home, light the smoke, its relax time Chorus: Now I apologize for smoke on my mind I been workin hard and I got to unwind About the j.o.a. stayin in my brain But Im seconds away from goin insane Now I need to lift away (lynch): Now you niggas know I come sick like a lunatic Man, they must be high cuz they really dont know who they fuckin with I used to have them all bombed out Drink alize wine, then rhyme and smoke tweeds till we dropped out I got the chop out, no doubt, Cuz if it aint about rappin, gunplays gon happen Cuz Im tappin at yo window, off that indo, more sacs than santana Better check your antenna on your radio or your stereo or your video Cuz Im not that pretty, but in the bedroom Im critical You got your chance, now use Hit you with the loaded album, coutesty of siccmade music Evidently you got something against me Dont you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of indo, killafornias best Player haters die a slow death, slow death Chorus (ice-t): I dont wear no chuck taylors and dont sag my pants But I still lift the switch and make this 64 dance More niggas with me now than I had in the hood And they down for whatever and thats all to the good Wish you would test my technique and heart, nigga what? Nigga, fuck that, bitch nigga what? baby, duck! What you wanna do now, ya bleedin from the floor Nigga wanted beef, now he wants beef no more Thats how Im coming 9-6, bitch, rich and mad Hoes in bikinis, rag lambroginis, overseer runnin mad streets Creepers with beepers and stash spots for glocks And under car escobar style, buck wild, you been there, you know the terrain Niggas go insane, tryin to get the green Im just surviving on the streets with my peeps And Im livin for the day I catch a punk on the creep, yeah Chorus Нравится песня? Расскажи о ней друзьям: Прямая ссылка на текст песни Secondz a Way: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/101/1/19563.html Все тексты песен: Brotha Lynch Hung » Brotha Lynch Hung - 1 Die 1 » Brotha Lynch Hung - Loaded » Brotha Lynch Hung - Locc To The Brain » Brotha Lynch Hung - Situation on Dirty » Brotha Lynch Hung - Spydie`s Birth » Brotha Lynch Hung - Friend Of Mine » Brotha Lynch Hung - Death Dance » Brotha Lynch Hung - Season of the Sick » Brotha Lynch Hung - Frustrated » Brotha Lynch Hung - Return Of Da Baby Killa » Brotha Lynch Hung - Deep Down (featuring Mr. Doctor) » Brotha Lynch Hung - On My Briefcase » Brotha Lynch Hung - Brotha Lynch Hung and Siccmade Muzicc Pr » Brotha Lynch Hung - Liquor Sicc » Brotha Lynch Hung - My Love » Brotha Lynch Hung - 24 Deep » Brotha Lynch Hung - Hunta Killa » Brotha Lynch Hung - Welcome 2 Your Own Death » Brotha Lynch Hung - Devils and Gunsmoke » Brotha Lynch Hung - X-Caliba Рекомендуем скачать: » Хромов Юра - ТАЕЖНАЯ СКАЗКА » Хабарова Кира - Рыжая собака » Хабарова Кира - Жить! » Хвостенко Алексей - Прославление Олега Соханевича » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Почтовый поезд » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Про лето » Хвостенко Алексей - Игра на флейте » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Воскресение » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Надо выбрать день » Хвостенко Алексей - Олимпийское проклятье » Хор и Оркестр ГАБТ СССР - Марш энтузиастов (Авиамарш) » Хамерман Знищує Віруси - Україна » Хабарова Кира - Танго печали » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Средняя школа №7 (А мы любили) » Хабарова Кира - На лоскутном одеяле » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Всё в огонь /песня царевны/ » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - 999 » Хабарова Кира - Лошадка-судьба » Хромов Юра - ВАСЬКА-ГОЛУБЯТНИК » Хай-Фай, Hi-Fi - Запоминай
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