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
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[Party Arty]
Now what you know about the CLK with fo` doors Hoes with no drawers, smokin so raw Coke from Omar, the nigga from "Scarface" Connects with Sosa, the nigga that killed Tony Now I throw pies like pizza chefs We eat your bread, y`all niggaz get beat to death You wanna see somethin? Playa watch, we sprayin shots when haters plot, some been slingin rocks since Mayor Koch I heard a lot about you But I don`t give a fuck, so I gotta shout you Party Arty in the truck, but you can`t see him Had to warn `em, better join `em if you can`t beat `em And I`d give anything for my man freedom Trick and Tone comin home to the fam-bino And I`m that nigga like my man Nino So let your crew, your clique, and family know We get it dirty nigga [Chorus: D Flow] We get it rockin, get it happenin, we get it dusty We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me Droppin, `til it`s platinum, `til it`s dusty We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me [D Flow] We get it flossy, arrogant dog, bossy Charge three after I slip a mick in your coffee Get off me, started talkin fast and lost me Of course we them niggaz, "What What" like N.O.R.E. I blind hoes, when I step in the club My chain so bright, I got chicks checkin for bugs D-Flow lyrically I`m swift with the tongue fo` sho` Killer you feelin me I`m sick with the gun and yo It`s nuttin new son, bring your crew son I knew none of these rappers, had it, my flow like magic Hoes attracted to the kid with the small bling South Boogie, niggaz got it plus more bling On the spot a hot 16 that ain`t shit Rock blue and grey all day, and I ain`t Crip My bank sick, dough stack to the sky And I`ma stay high with a pound in the back of the 5 [Chorus] [Chorus Two: D Flow] We get it poppin, we get it crackin, we get it dusty We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me Droppin, `til it`s platinum, `til it`s dusty Get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me [O.C.] What`s my profile? Demeanor of a chief over this here beat, check the pow-wow Sirens, reminiscent to violence Wildlife, with about a hundred niggaz behind us Get it feelin like it`s World War 3 up in this bitch before the bomb hits nigga We get it dirty, done deal, guns I reveal Yo` gun stay concealed, let`s leave it at that Machine gun rap spray off Layin niggaz six feet, eyes wide from the chaos Many minds wanna know why they call me Mush But if I tell ya then I got ta kill ya See I leave no stones underturned, that`s how a lot of niggaz get burned Man I`m "Deep Cover" like Fishburne It`s my turn, pay-offs is froo froo Layoffs`ll make a nigga turn postal and shoot you [Chorus] + [Chorus Two]
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