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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(I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)
(Since everywhere I go is trouble-infested) (I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge) (I talks bad, way about a silly tramp bitch) (I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge) (Since everywhere I go is trouble-infested) (I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge) (I talks bad, way about a silly tramp bitch) --> Rube [ VERSE 1: Rube ] Congratulations for your patience, folks Young Rube comin through with the trey gold spokes I need yokes on a bitch I wanna get with I need a old school mob with a shift kit Left, right, head bobbin, mob type of chaos All you punks talkin jeal`, tear the shit way off Cause I ain`t with the funny style charades I rather hit `em doggy while I`m tuggin dookie braids I`m talkin bad muthafucker with the sick rappin I`m talkin slang from the turf and not the pig latin My pops told me when I was at the AJ Never become a suspect of a date rape If she don`t want ya you don`t need her You don`t buy her clothes, you don`t feed her Never would I cross over for applause Never would I save a hoe for the drawers "Can`t we all get along" was the question That they shot to the blacks and the Mexicans Answer came back like this, potna, "Eat a dick" Shit is fucked up and you too blind to see a trick (I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns) (And I ain`t trippin, my shoes is tied) (I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns) (Cause muthafuckers mo` dirty than a shit stain) (I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns) (And I ain`t trippin, my shoes is tied) (I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns) (Cause muthafuckers mo` dirty than a shit stain) --> Beesh [ VERSE 2: Beesh ] Crack my cranium, check what`s inside I got a whole lot of things on my mind Feelin like a bloodclot I`m stuck in a state, weary of the jack move I couldn`t stand the rock, I stay hip to the black groove Playa pimpin shittin for the swingers, man House parties bunk, gettin out of hand Young buck strivin for the cockola 15 and couldn`t wait till I was older At that point didn`t think about carryin A fat gat, all my potnas, they be buried in And now I`m my twenties and I`m like fuck I got the rabbit`s foot searchin for the right luck And house parties shut down before they get started A young fool had to go and try to get retarted That`s how it goes in the nine-o, I can`t deny it I`m out to get mine, pockets never on a diet Black on black and brown on brown Crime in the town, player haters and the cock hounds ( ? ) old school left in the old days Before the crack, before the AIDS, before the ( ? ) (I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin) (Funk Slave soldier in the paint gettin heated) (I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin) (The gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter) (I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin) (Funk Slave soldier in the paint gettin heated) (I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin) (The gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter) --> Chezski [ VERSE 3: Chezski ] And really when you think about the pain stroke Busy tryina do for me and all my kinfolk I hate it when I`m lookin at my po` father Strugglin to keep his head above the risin water But still he`s gotta push in the cold wind Take a look up at his life till it soaks in And promise to myself when I`m holdin fat I`ma break him off a chunk and give some love back Get it `fore they do is how the game`s played I try to follow rules and mama Kool-Aid Then again I`m lookin up for the steep hill My people first, and need a nother refill And brothers on the search for the good job Tired of bein labelled as an old slob But never does he find what he look fo` A lotta jobs for the rich and none for the po` That`s why I`m dippin low with a loose screw And when it comes to this it ain`t shit new Real to the say and tell it all straight Never trippin off the fools that wanna raise hate
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