Текст песни Ali - St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track), слова песни Ali

Текст песни Ali - St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track)

Ali - St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track) слова песни

* Jewely, M.K., Penelope, Kujo, Mic Checker, Boogee Mann, Suga Chi, King Jacob, Iceberg, Foundation, Storm, West Stone, Goobee Thug & Fister(Intro: Ali)Check it out, my name is AliI roll with them LunaticsYou know us, know what I`m sayin`But what you might not knowIs we got a lot of MC`s in St. LouisSo we gon` do it like thisFirst up we got my man Jewely!!!(Jewely)Now what`s a grand finaleIf you ain`t drinkin` grams in Cali? El Caminos on tonersHotel Nico with Mona, weed from PamonaAnd any ghetto catch this St. Louis nigga on the cornerMy persona known to leave rappers in a comaSo faggotts stop the grinnin`, them chrome rims reflectThe hate in your face as you see em spinnin`MC`s are screamin`, "No mo` shoutouts" through nine innin`sI`m drama, like two baby mommas and one pendin`This here rapper split up your vest, cause the shit I`m packin` Dawg`ll knock your heart out your chestRappers suffer from cardiac arrestIf I`m uncomfortable I dump a fewYou niggas are actin` like, I won`t send em to the afterlifeThis is Judah Zor, a hard act to followMurderous clique nigga, known as desperado.(Ali)Up next, Hillsdale representativeMy nigga M.K.!!!(M.K.)You knew what time it was soon as you stepped in the doorBitches gigglin` and pointin`, and whisperin`, "There he go!"Where he go? Me I be loungin` between the iceSippin` Don P with a dime piece right!Whisperin` in my ear about menage a troisUs and her partners, El Passe panties and brasFreaky deaky baby I`m lovin` thatDig the way that you think, them your partners?Get them a drink, shit one bitch was strippin`Cause she didn`t get picked, but babyWe roll with time, it`s only rippin` the six, trickMinutes later nigga rollin` four deepThem bitches tonguin` in the backI`m gettin` some head up in the frontseatShe like, "I got this" you control the cockpitWhile her partners in the back sixety-ninin` tradin` cock spit.(Ali)Up next, we got that hazel-eyed heartthrobMiss Fo` Reel, Penelope!!!(Penelope)Hot like fire, makin` these niggas yearnDon`t be stressin` me dirty, you got shit to learnHow to keep these seven zeroes that`s my only concernPut a torch to these hoes, make these bitches burnStern, as I handle my grit, talk mo` shitSpit, and let my fo-fo rip, so bitch don`t slipDon`t make me put a lump on your lipA dip in your hip, I`m snatchin` your shitI want it all so give me itAm I a Luna-chic? Uh huh, I`m a looney bitchMore deadly than the venom that some anacondas spitThe Marilyn Monroe, of the ghettoI`m a sucker for cornrows, niggas in Timbos hey(I got old Timbos mama, let me, let me, can I hit that?)Oh Lord, look nigga (C`mon mama let me hit that)Get the fuck on out of my face talkin` all thatOld silly ass bullshit.(Ali)Up next, Kujo!!!(Kujo)Niggas hate me cause I`m nice in the gameAnd got a style priceless like ice in the chainAiyyo so who am I? I`m the best to ever spitI got that, "Hot Shit" like I`m Nelly and the TicsI pop a hot block dodge the cops and the dicsCause they want me gone, been in the game too longHere`s how you want it, you come with guns niggaWe cock two, got work? I comp tooBlock one, we pop twoFor the love for my family, and my seedMakin` sure them records live on, from now until infinityI`m from the 34, live in 3DSouthsiiiiiiide, hot boy like I`m FigiSpit the truth til I die, give a fuck you niggas sick of meNo matter what the fuck you faggotts doYou can`t get rid of me.(Ali)Peace, to my cousin Trife, up nextThe one and only Mic Checker!!!(Mic Checker)St. Louis, what you know bout high-grade we wastin` it?What you know bout 76 pounds to break down in the basement?What you know bout chances enough Air CourseSuitcases and pretty pictures out in Lambert Air Port?What you know bout losin` count cause there`s so many stacks?How many niggas can say shit like thisBut there`s truth in the tracks?What you know bout clicked up nigga? Out the country whilin`How many you niggas done had pussy from the Virgin Islands?What you know bout your broad beggin` to be my mama?Lunatics and Skunk dick player up in TrulanyWhat you know bout mo` bail? We brolic like BrutisCome for them, everyday and my clique`s all exclusiveWhat you know bout Spanish Town? Amongst the gun clappersBuff they penis soup head still on my red snapper.(Ali)One love to PL-SpinNaw you know, up next Boogee Mann!!!(Boogee Mann)Well Mr. B-double-O-G what? M-A-double-NI smoke joke and grin, and fuck your best friendOnly if she a ten, then I slide right inBoogee and DJ Spin, be thunder and lightenin`Damn that`s frightenin, so tuck your vest inMy lyrical Mack-10, spit flows that kill menIt`s the Midwest y`all, we aimin` at all y`allWe the ball til we fall or it`s nothin` at allSo just warm up the water, cause we Blink like TrotterHalf-baked half slaughter, comin` like Vince CarterHow you want it head or cut? We in the back of the truckTryin` to see if baby girl can make me bust this nutCause I`m 24 inches above the gun creekGet these hoes deep, so you pack yo heat.(Ali)What up Spud? Up next representin` V.I.P.King Jacob and Suga Chi!!!(Suga Chi)Microphones I burn bitches to whom it may concern with thisGotta learn this is to all my foesThem baby mommas swervin` Neons and GeosCause they nigros to peep my steeloIn a ??? ready for war, suited and bootedUndisputed dame, been the same, in the gameSince my Tenants had fat laces, smack facesWith Tipsy (Ouch) intoxicated feel it bitchYou gettin` thrown out of clubs ever time you see me.(King Jacob)Uugh, everybody want to be streetGuaranteed they bring the most heatAnd swear to God ain`t nothin` sweetI agree, but I also feel I ain`t got to prove shitTo do it to them punk ass niggas from your clickI fuck hoes that be so thick, when I roll you know thisAnd them twenty inch chrome rims sit so sickMotorola shit for communication, this is to aid my flowsTake over the whole nation.(Ali)Iceberg!!!(Iceberg)It`s the nigga the player that keeps it duplicatedOr faded in no type of way, hate it if you likeBut you can`t stop us gettin` paidUnless you sabotage the stage, or drop us in a place we standAnd then you have to worry bout your whole stateWe made it now the legacy`s forever moreStyle be forever raw, heaven or hellI`ll stay forever S-T-LCatch me down down baby, in a black HumveeComin` to get my fuckin` corner back for Nelly, (E.I.!)My fuckin` record sales were barely, (Uh Ohhhhhhhhh!)Now there`s nothin` they can tell meWhat I do is always too late, for the LouieSee how you fools respond to these bomb freesBigger Big Lee released all these beatsAnd everytime we do what`s fuckin` million ???And come to answer their question of how come I-C-E-B-GGon become part of this Alumni nigga(Ali)All the way from the Cle-Town we got my man EHella (Louie Town) Foundation!!!(Foundation)You never met a four, better with metaphorsMetal for whores, like Tiger`s metal fourShit, that`s what I met her for, strictly cityThick cliques mixed with Big LeeCan`t disturb, stand clap hands dance and swerveFor the spot where nobody else should fix a hand or wordE-Perior bless, since we all wreck mic checksYou guess me on, Midwest be songs, and testin` JonesF with the best be gone, no quest-ionSchool yard parties, fourty-four-fourSeventy West and East, don`t get it F in streetsStyle shows like sandals, pumps get handledDismantled, St. Louis is Tony SopranoNo two, heffers with blow poor, ghetto mo` gurrBlow bolo get fooled around the clock.(Ali)Up next, we got two live MC`sMy man Storm and his home` West Stone.(Storm)You can`t fuck with Storm, six niggas in the truck with StormYou want to jack him, but you won`t got no luck with StormMy dirty run with dirty niggas and he from St. LouPlus he know Kung-Fu, and he got guns tooThat big dick dude, that flip kick fools like Tom CruiseYou don`t wanna battle me dude you gon` loseHit you with one-two`s, your lungs bruisedMy foot in the butter so many crews call me doo-doo shoes.(West Stone)You know Stone is known to break them bonesMeet your chick and take her homeGet one chick and make her moanAnd you wonder why these niggas hate the StoneBroke their backs, when I wrote the rapsNigga don`t drink I`ll smoke to thatNiggas hopin` that, I`ll take a bowWant to take my life? Better take it nowI`m still alive let me break it downTurn this shit to the O.K. CorralGet to blastin`, whippin` assesForget that talk shit, I`m with the actionWant to make it hot? I`ma bring the heatAin`t no nigga that can hang with me.(Ali)Up next we got Goobee ThugThe rhyme spitter!!!(Goobee Thug)We gon` get two seats recline and lean harderX, smoke green, and buy the spring waterY`all niggas polish your jewels to bling harderI cock the fifth, y`all drop your shitType of nigga rob you to cop the whipCatch me, on 23`s with a boxter-twistSee the rocks twinkle twinkle right in front of your eyesI shine brighter than the sun in the skiesGot a gun on my waist, got one in your eyeAnd I stays blowin` haze and that Chocolate ThaiY`all smoke swag weed that`s brown with seeds in itI hustle from first to first through seasonsAnd you gotta accept this, I ball like the CelticsA. Walker, shake you upAnd I have Ted Foster to make you up.(Ali)Up next from the Rawkus CrewMy homeboy Fister!!!(Fister)I`m the man before time, move hands before timeLike Don Bluth I made The Land Before TimeSome MC`s think they`re nice, but not hardlyThat`s what they "Say Say Say" like Paul McArtneyAnd Michael Jackson, I cypher the actionTo anyone who assists like John PacksonWho these kids think they is tryin` to act all wildThey temporary like members of Destiny`s ChildI`m spottin` the top Feds, poppin` the hot leadAll in his pothead, makin` him drop deadCall me Shanksoon, lyrically snatchin` your soulYour squad`s useless, like the right arm on Bob DoleBehold, the manifold of a black AristotleRoadkillin` MC`s, with my hand on the throttleSmashin` em all, mashin` em all, bashin` em allPicked up my Friday check cashin` em all

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Ali

St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track)

Текст песни Ali - St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track)

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