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Текст песни B.G. - Hot Boys 226

B.G. - Hot Boys 226 слова песни



Текст песни B.G. - Hot Boys 226




[B.G.]Nigga you peepin, 'cause I'm peepin for niggas creepinI'm on my game ready to be releasin and rearrangeYa fuckin brainCarry and shoot that old 50 plusOut the clip these bullets rush, leave ya fuckin head bustWuz up, I freeze beef like a deep freezer( )Ya talk noise, where ya stand nigga is where I leave yaBelieve in me and my click, hit ya block erasinLeave ya thoughts wastin, I run a hundred miles paper chasinI'm 'bout drama, foolishness, whatever start the trigga playI had to spank a nigga believin what a bitch sayLike K.C., I don't playSpin a nigga bin everydayA hundred round drum on the KLeave ya set a straight disasterYa got birds? I smash yaRefuse, I leave that ass, know that I'm nastyNo clues, I can't be caughtI can't be found, it's all on youI stop ya heart from beatin, down to the dirty-doI leave a nigga flesh hangin from his chest'Cause the best that he dressedCouldn't fuck with the Smith & WessB.G., Black Connection 226 start staticComin out a nigga attic leavin holes in ya carriageI ride all night 'til I catch a bitchAnd when I catch, I auto matic wet ya bitch[Bullet]It's that nigga off the block, call me the hood mackDisguised in red bandana strapped wit the chrome and black mackCheck, while you be the playa hater, I be the bitch faderBullets graze ya, nigga I tried to erase yaPick the casket, dump the Glock in the basketI stroll slow, a tisket, a tasketI brings enough of ??? heat then I bring my boysTo destroy, chop ya down like a clownUPTOWN!!!That is my destinationAnd murderin motherfuckers is my occupationYou'd rather face the nation than to fuck wit meI keep a chopper, I'm a fool out that wild TCGood bye, better yet I'll see ya laterI'm smooth with the steel and wit the hands I'm like FrazierOkey doke yo bitch ass, then I take the cash and blastNever get caught, my trade mark is the black mask226 tattoed on my over my heartThis here mark means that I was down from the startReleasin them cop killers and body peelersI got ya, you bitchNow it's time for me to drop ya[Lil' Wayne]Head shots stop, complete50 shots when our choppers screamHavin trouble this eveninLeavin the scene not breathinMe and the Hot Boyz rideCheif and gettin highBeef and niggas die when me and the Hot Boyz rideGirlfriend under the seat, driver side of the HummerHere comes the chopper drummer faster than a track runnerDon't play the hard road 'cause the hard road will get you leftOn your way to the crossroads, no tomorrow for yourselfWettin your whole set and where I think ya be atAttackin your old hood and where ya people sleep atReact, pure D-donkey, 'bout gettin funkyTurk throw me the junk keep more ammo than an armyClips that's all extended leave you bended, rear endedSK's be sendin, slugs can't be defendedThere goes the arrival, chopper spits five moreScreamin lets start the war 'cause we 'bout survivalI gets loose, chopper, blast drastically, tragicallyBloody, bloody bodies lie upon the ground raggedyYou turn around I got that red light beamin brightYou full of fright 'cause you know you might die tonightI gets tool it's, I'm ruthless, do more shootin this'Bout gettin foolish, lose it, chopper, ready to shoot itThe head buster, Apple and Eagle, B.G., still a sinnerI got his body stank behind the Carrollton shoppin center[Juvenile]Baby, gimme the keys, gimme the G's, gimme the weed, gimme the mack-10Let me see what's happenin, to me these niggas lackinSome tellin me felonies was commited, some was acquittedMy destiny is to live not in jeopardy, to the death of meI provide knowledge that spread like a virusThis a street orientation, you can't learn this in collegeYou be fuckin around wit the keys if you aint rollin shit upI wish you niggas wit me, I would be sewin shit upLook, hide out in the cutPeep out Shot, Corey and BuckIn an Expedition truckAnd brain fucked up from that dustNigga, who trippin?I aint trippin, you trippinWhen I slap that clip inYou shittin like stool pigeonsThat's my bitches, that's my riches, that's my niggasThat's my yayyo, that's my scaleThat's my sale, that's my clienteleThis my block, this my rocksThis my shop, this my GlockThis my connection with the mobThat's my partna black SaabThis my people, that's my peopleThat's hot rimmed RegalAsk my lawyer, I do it legalThat's my credit card from Segal'sThis my cigar, this my weedThis my Newport, this my reeferThat's my old Alma MaterThat's my uncle drinkin that bottle[Tec-9]Okay, I'm from that 3 and I don't give a fuckNigga, I say murda, murda, what the fuck is up?Nigga better duck when I come around that bend, I'm 'bout that dramaWith the dirty 30, nose dirtyAnd I'm from that 3 and I be gat totinI feel ya body full of leadPut you to bedAnd now another that done came up, fuckI plot and make sure that I don't miss the hitYou up in ???, I got ya, I hurt yaNow I'm up in ya rest area, finish yaI come with a bouquet of flowersWithin the bouquet of flowers is a 9 nickel plated to devourAnd motherfuck anybody tryin to get yo backThey better be 'bout some comin around the men in black




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