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Angie Martinez

Live From The Streets

  hip-hop  rap  rnb  latina  hip hop
458,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Angie Martinez - Live From The Streets

Angie Martinez - Live From The Streets слова песни




[unknown singer]Ohhhhh.. senorita.. when the evening sun go downI come to.. serenade you.. from another part, of town {*car tires peeling out*}[Angie Martinez]Let`s get it on it`s Angie Mar` reportin live from the streetsFrom Y.O. to Philly and Harlem to Q.B.When it drops it`s game over, you`ll seeIntroducing, Jadakiss and Styles P, where you at?[The L.O.X.]Yo, yo, yo, yo, yoYou know we still in the hood dog, in front of the store With the work across the street and the gun in the stallSoon as somethin happen niggaz wanna run to the law You know the code of the streets, never run to the lawThat`s why I can`t even run `less I run with a fouror I walk with a three, come and talk to `em P You can catch me down bottom with a bird and a glock On the block makin money where they murder a lotOr you can catch me up top shootin dice for a yard I`m talkin six digits, niggaz bet the house or the car You can catch me hittin the spliff, sick in the pit On the fiend like I`m missin my shit, they think I`m crazyCatch me hittin your lady in my MercedesBird on your baby, fuck you I`m keepin it gravyL.O.X. hold the hammers like we waitin for screwsWith Angie Mar` BLOWIN MOTHERFUCKERS OUT OF THEY SHOES, WHAT?[Angie Martinez]Comin live from the streets where some died tryin to eatFrom Y.O. to Philly, from Harlem to Q.B.And when it drops, game over, you`ll seeIntroducin, Beanie Sigel, tell me how you livin?[Beanie Sigel]Aiyyo, I`ve been kickin murder - since Adidas with thick stringsT.I. sweatsuits, Pumas with thick chainsFour finger rings, black belts with brass namesI was spittin flames since niggaz was pitchin changeI`m a hard knock kiddo, always played the middleThrew flacks in the crack game, getchu if I can getchuSince a buck, played the highway, dodgin the troop boysJumpin in and out of Coupes, wavin for Duke boysAlways chased a penny, copped quarter watersTried to make a dollar chased my pop`s boss daughtersTryin to make my name, global, in all four cornersPhilly baller, gamin in all four quartersNever worked, never will - all my hoes buy my clothesI can`t go broke, never will - all my bros buy my O`sI`m the best thing that linked up with New York since SprewellI murder, nuttin further - fill in the details[Brett]I`m here, it`s over, fuck how y`all feelWhen I drop, y`all gon` realize it`s all realBein left for dead, tied up, smoke `til I was dried upSo high up, seem like the sky ducked, high what?Life was rough, but now it`s nothin to hideUsed to click and be quick to put this gun to yo` sideBe like, "That chain nice - I like that pal.Matter fact {*click click*} I`d like that now."You`ve got game? Call the name, just spell the name rightBrett, one of the best rappers ever to touch a micIt`s prophecized I`d write, spit scriptures mind blowin`til my coffin top close and heaven skies openFear no man`s my slogan, I hope y`all believeI`m just like you, fear nuttin human that bleedsMy mind breed two movies, six ab-lums, a hundred poemsThirty R&B joints, I`m beyond the norm, y`all just madI`m just glad, got my time to shineY`all the type to hit three hundred bars and run out of rhymes[Angie Martinez]Brett, from my ByStorm family, with AngieCome live from the streets, from Harlem to Q.B.And when it drops, game over, you`ll seeIntroducin, finally, the legendary Kool G.[Kool G. Rap]It`s B.G.S. kid so what you facin? Caps racinDecapitation twenty buck-fifties and lacerationsGuerilla fam` camouflaged out in the grass waitinto blass your nation slash like Jason and bash your face inWe ass lacin top bodies and half in the basementOur style, cast you so bad you`ll need plastic replacementWhen gats is raised in, fascination blastin and blazinEvacuation for your whole staff there`s gas in the tank andGets back abrasions from cap grazin, defy gravitationPull my shit back squeeze bust it like masturbationHold fort, hold the blow torch, leave your soul scorchedwith no remorse, the state of New York, get your shit caughtWhen niggaz hawk, let the fifth talkSo tell me who`s the next man to flip?I stop the beef shit, with rubber handled gripsYour candle get lit, guerilla shit feed us banana clipsThe hammers hit, anything in our range we dismantle it[Angie Martinez]Like to say thanks to my street correspondents, for gettin on thisComin live and direct with no nonsenseSorry folks for hurtin y`all, the previous has been brought to youby "Up Close and Personal"

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