Текст (слова) песни: Run DMC - Simmons Incorporated

[Intro: Dig Dast (Jamel Simmons) {Gold D}]
Yo my nigga Jamel Simmons what the deal nigga?
(Gold D, Dig Dast what`s goin down, what`s goin down)
{Aight, what`s goin on, what`s goin on
What`s the deal pa, where you headed son?}
(Yo I`m bout to go to the studio and lay smash hit
Wit my Uncle Run, boy)
{Word?} Ain`t he a Reverend now, collectin plates
At churches and shit?
(He`s spittin flames right now baby
He at the top of his game, right now
I`m tellin, I`m show you, watch
Youknowhatimean? He`s a born again, hooligan)
Uh-huh

[Jamel Simmons]
I`m red rum, Reverend Run, brother son, earthquakin
Industry shakin, you kiddin me? We money makin
Your money fake son, I`ll call you clay cuz you get`s Play-Doh
Jamel and Joey Simmons holdin millions on the lay low
Platinum hailos, hero heads high from hydro
Hit the dime on the combo, she try to diss my rhyme flow
She ain`t know we only glamorous like Phat Farm fashion
Simmons name sinamous wit this cash
It`s our passion... what!?

[Run]
Yo basically I`m here to rename rap, it ain`t rap no more
Call it Simmons Incorporated, since `74
Lotta money in this fam, think about it
Me wit Run-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam
Well damn, how the hell you think we livin?
How you think it feel to be a Simmons
Imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving
People wanna know why I ain`t on my brother`s label
If I did this whole rap game be unstable
Went over to Arista wit Mr. Davis, for the change of neighbors
It`s only fair that we share those naked papers
You can tell a cat serious about rap and it ain`t luck
If 20 years after his first single, his name`s stuck
From `74 to `99, did novice to king, wit a million
MC`s waitin in line
Keep a barrel on this album if my man`s and them rise

[Method Man]
Now speed it up, uh

[Chorus 2X: Run]
Run really make ya wanna drop, drop
Now wanna make ya go live, live
Now wanna make ya go live, live
Now hold up

[Method Man]
Now I walked on ice and never fell
I spent my time in a plush hotel
John-John Phenomenon, deadly but calm
Word to my born, dead by dawn
Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm!
Another sound boy dyin, hot irons
Slugs flyin out the hardware appliance
Baby mamma cryin, sobbin and grievin
You was at aws wit them kids till they made it even
Let down ya guard, yes you did, now you barely breathin
To unaware, open season on a duck, we don`t give a what
Yo best best to give it up
Sho indeed, let`s Run D`s MC`s, they phony
Some hump free, they mad bogey
Saddle up ya horse, if the sunset mosey
Jam Master Jay deserve a trophy for this track, right?
Futuristic G past type, if that`s yo girlfriend
She wasn`t last night punk, little boy
Stylin mad chump, ain`t no wins here
This sport`s extreme, know what I mean?
Gettin royalty, +Down With the King+!!!

[D.M.C.]
Crack, crack, cracks in the cradle
Cracks, in the cradle
Cracks in the cradle, cokes in the spoon
Little Boy Blue higher than the moon
Will he, will he want a weapons, will he wanted the wound
I come to school and lay down the rules
Two, two, two channel empty guzzle, brake gallons of drop
Shorty wit the forty, once sport in the dark
Co-co-corner, black as a goner
Didn`t really wanna call my momma in Savannah

[Mike Ransom]
I spit dynamite ignite turn off lights
Recite, spit poetry type, get my squad physically hype
Get a hundred blast from Funkmaster, crush ya life
+Blast+ Time to go now, show these fake rappers the way to go down
Down With The Kings, like Smokey down wit Motown
Who wanna come and see, come and test me
Take about a million MC`s to wet me
For Run-D.M.C. I let shells fly, freein the five
Wit the red eye, niggas talkin to much
Tape `em up, leave `em hog tied

[Kenny Cash]
You thinkin about it way to hard, how to get down wit the Gods
Kenny Cash, the Bronx cat, but it`ll ride wit gats
Peep chicks huggin the sacks, yours scratchin the back
I`mma shark in a shack, y`all cats is feedin the fish
Now hate and feed wit clips, nigga that leave you ripped
And I`m leavin `em dry, shit`s crushed wit bleadin lips
Bet I, leave these chips, and a C.L.K.
After I hang plaques in the spot wit Run, D and Jay

[Chorus 4X]

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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: Run DMC - Simmons Incorporated [Intro: Dig Dast (Jamel Simmons) {Gold D}] Yo my nigga Jamel Simmons what the deal nigga? (Gold D, Dig Dast what`s goin down, what`s goin down) {Aight, what`s goin on, what`s goin on What`s the deal pa, where you headed son?} (Yo I`m bout to go to the studio and lay smash hit Wit my Uncle Run, boy) {Word?} Ain`t he a Reverend now, collectin plates At churches and shit? (He`s spittin flames right now baby He at the top of his game, right now I`m tellin, I`m show you, watch Youknowhatimean? He`s a born again, hooligan) Uh-huh [Jamel Simmons] I`m red rum, Reverend Run, brother son, earthquakin Industry shakin, you kiddin me? We money makin Your money fake son, I`ll call you clay cuz you get`s Play-Doh Jamel and Joey Simmons holdin millions on the lay low Platinum hailos, hero heads high from hydro Hit the dime on the combo, she try to diss my rhyme flow She ain`t know we only glamorous like Phat Farm fashion Simmons name sinamous wit this cash It`s our passion... what!? [Run] Yo basically I`m here to rename rap, it ain`t rap no more Call it Simmons Incorporated, since `74 Lotta money in this fam, think about it Me wit Run-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam Well damn, how the hell you think we livin? How you think it feel to be a Simmons Imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving People wanna know why I ain`t on my brother`s label If I did this whole rap game be unstable Went over to Arista wit Mr. Davis, for the change of neighbors It`s only fair that we share those naked papers You can tell a cat serious about rap and it ain`t luck If 20 years after his first single, his name`s stuck From `74 to `99, did novice to king, wit a million MC`s waitin in line Keep a barrel on this album if my man`s and them rise [Method Man] Now speed it up, uh [Chorus 2X: Run] Run really make ya wanna drop, drop Now wanna make ya go live, live Now wanna make ya go live, live Now hold up [Method Man] Now I walked on ice and never fell I spent my time in a plush hotel John-John Phenomenon, deadly but calm Word to my born, dead by dawn Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm! Another sound boy dyin, hot irons Slugs flyin out the hardware appliance Baby mamma cryin, sobbin and grievin You was at aws wit them kids till they made it even Let down ya guard, yes you did, now you barely breathin To unaware, open season on a duck, we don`t give a what Yo best best to give it up Sho indeed, let`s Run D`s MC`s, they phony Some hump free, they mad bogey Saddle up ya horse, if the sunset mosey Jam Master Jay deserve a trophy for this track, right? Futuristic G past type, if that`s yo girlfriend She wasn`t last night punk, little boy Stylin mad chump, ain`t no wins here This sport`s extreme, know what I mean? Gettin royalty, +Down With the King+!!! [D.M.C.] Crack, crack, cracks in the cradle Cracks, in the cradle Cracks in the cradle, cokes in the spoon Little Boy Blue higher than the moon Will he, will he want a weapons, will he wanted the wound I come to school and lay down the rules Two, two, two channel empty guzzle, brake gallons of drop Shorty wit the forty, once sport in the dark Co-co-corner, black as a goner Didn`t really wanna call my momma in Savannah [Mike Ransom] I spit dynamite ignite turn off lights Recite, spit poetry type, get my squad physically hype Get a hundred blast from Funkmaster, crush ya life +Blast+ Time to go now, show these fake rappers the way to go down Down With The Kings, like Smokey down wit Motown Who wanna come and see, come and test me Take about a million MC`s to wet me For Run-D.M.C. I let shells fly, freein the five Wit the red eye, niggas talkin to much Tape `em up, leave `em hog tied [Kenny Cash] You thinkin about it way to hard, how to get down wit the Gods Kenny Cash, the Bronx cat, but it`ll ride wit gats Peep chicks huggin the sacks, yours scratchin the back I`mma shark in a shack, y`all cats is feedin the fish Now hate and feed wit clips, nigga that leave you ripped And I`m leavin `em dry, shit`s crushed wit bleadin lips Bet I, leave these chips, and a C.L.K. After I hang plaques in the spot wit Run, D and Jay [Chorus 4X] Нравится песня? 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