Текст (слова) песни: Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T - 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
I`m still givin` birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady
Still mixin` up with skeet sours, I like them heavy
Heavy`ll 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
I`m First muthafuckin` Degree, not your average,
I`ll 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 don`t listen
I...I got pot that`s hot to trot, can`t stop, won`t stop
I got Lynch Hung in my backseat sniffin` for cops
I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time
So ya`ll go home, light the smoke, it`s 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 I`m 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 don`t 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 ain`t about rappin`, gunplay`s gon` happen
Cuz I`m 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 I`m not that pretty, but in the bedroom I`m critical
You got your chance, now use
Hit you with the Loaded album, coutesty of Siccmade Music
Evidently you got something against me
Don`t you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of Indo, Killafornia`s best
Player haters die a slow death, slow death

CHORUS

(Ice-T):
I don`t wear no Chuck Taylors and don`t 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 that`s 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
That`s how I`m 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
I`m just surviving on the streets with my peeps
And I`m livin` for the day I catch a punk on the creep, yeah

CHORUS

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» Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T - Secondz A Way
» Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T - Loaded


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 f First Degree, Ice-T - 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 I`m still givin` birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady Still mixin` up with skeet sours, I like them heavy Heavy`ll 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 I`m First muthafuckin` Degree, not your average, I`ll 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 don`t listen I...I got pot that`s hot to trot, can`t stop, won`t stop I got Lynch Hung in my backseat sniffin` for cops I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time So ya`ll go home, light the smoke, it`s 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 I`m 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 don`t 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 ain`t about rappin`, gunplay`s gon` happen Cuz I`m 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 I`m not that pretty, but in the bedroom I`m critical You got your chance, now use Hit you with the Loaded album, coutesty of Siccmade Music Evidently you got something against me Don`t you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of Indo, Killafornia`s best Player haters die a slow death, slow death CHORUS (Ice-T): I don`t wear no Chuck Taylors and don`t 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 that`s 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 That`s how I`m 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 I`m just surviving on the streets with my peeps And I`m 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/101/1/25012.html Все тексты песен: Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T » Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T - Secondz A Way » Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Ice-T - Loaded Рекомендуем скачать: » Чернила - Тающий снег » Чичерина Юлия - 40000км » Черный Обелиск - Полночь » Чайф - Вольный ветер » Чай Вдвоем - Я пойду » Чернила - Все, все » Чайф - Оставь нам нашу любовь » Чайф - С войны » Чиж и компания, Сергей Чиграков - Лирическая » Чиж и компания, Сергей Чиграков - Урал-Байкер блюз » Чай Вдвоем - Ты не одна » Чай Вдвоем - Моя » Чиж и компания, Сергей Чиграков - Партизанская борода » Чайф - Не говори никому » Чайф - Там где нет ничего (Молодежная) » Чайф - 17 лет » Чиж и компания, Сергей Чиграков - Расстели мне поле » Чайф - Пример » Чайф - У взморья » Черняков Владимир - За друзей!
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