Текст песни Black Knights f RZA - Rollin`
Black Knights f RZA - Rollin` слова песни
[Doc Doom]Oh how I love my a hundred spokesFlossin and shit, CaliforniaFlossin on them gold onesBlack KnightsOld ones, I sold themSippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold onesThe chrome was the old ones, I sold themCan I get a drum roll please for my gold D`s?Hundred spoke Daytonas, wish we all could be CaliforniaSmokin bank in the corners in a black six-deuceHittin switches, dippin, switchin on that ackrite juiceAct like you, wan` try and take my D`sWatch how fast these slugs in this thang gon` leaveWatch how many holes in ya body it leavesWatch how much pints of blood you bleedMay the fake thugs retreat, pop up barkin the heatCaravanin nine-to-ten cars deepDown the `shaw where Knights is known to breakin lawsAnd if a bitch is ridin with me she`s takin it offNow get off ya job, if not bitch I`m layin you offCuz I guess the last nigga that you fucked with was softThat ain`t me, it cost just to floss with meAnd how I love my a hundred spoke D`s[Chorus 3.5X: Doc Doom]Rollin, sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold onesThe chrome was the old ones, I sold them[RZA]YoUp in a black bourbon tank labelled GMCSmokin on a Newport long and PCPGat tucked in, easy pass, I`m low duckinDimepiece bird on the side I`m finger-fuckinBouncin off this deuce-deuces, fat like Polo goosesEighteen-inch woofers movin studio acousticsRim tri-star, chrome on my side-barDon`t hate crab cuz I caught ya bitch eye parPlatinum grill, re-enforced solid steelSuperstar engine, force of an eighteen wheelThat`ll crash through brick walls, smash intersectionsMove through ya city escorted with police protectionHeated polished seats with back massagesYou gotta know how to roll in more like Kenny RogersTinted glass, PS2 plus DreamcastSmoke screens, blindin high blastsGPS satellite navigationAutomatic lock doors drop jackers to the stationYou got beef you get fed to Doc DoomGoon, you can`t fuck with Wu Killa Bee Clan platoonI might get Holocaust to come and cough on youMy nigga Crisis might love to let one off on youOr Rugged Monk rolls up another bluntThe great Digi goes and lures out another cuntCuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twosAin`t got no money or love for you funny foolsCuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twosSippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools[Monk]I`m from the land of chaos where niggaz get shot for trippinI caught a fool slippin on some D`s, now I`m steady dippinCruisin, movin up the block cuz I`m the shitStick dick to hoodrats, make gangsta hitsI baptize my sticks, ice skate on seventeensOn the phone with five-oh, don`t you love them D`s?While they spin, you freeze in ya souped up paint cleanFifties, amps, six by nines and thangsComin down the block, let my sub straight bangLike, "Fuck the po-po`s, I`m not turnin it down"I love to floss as I toss up a fifth of that CrownBank corner after corners, watch all the ho`s smile[Chorus 3.5X]