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Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung f CO, Tall Cann - Reachin` for Fame

Brotha Lynch Hung f CO, Tall Cann - Reachin` for Fame слова песни

[Lynch Talking]Yeh, yeh..Back at that ass once againHad to do it, bitch niggaz in the townYa know what I`m sayin`I`ma tell `em what I knowKnow what I know[Brotha Lynch Hung]Word on the streets is don`t quit ya day jobI own spots while you won`t even get to own a spotI`m unconcious sippin` on that sugary Saint I-desYour raps need that Midas touch while mines rhymesIt`s suicide fuckin` wit me, believe itI`ll tuck the fifty cal now cause some niggaz tried to get meSplit me in half like a joint bitch, I had it crackin`Slugs went flyin` through ya window, nigga I`m the captainYou just rappin` to get by, might have to get to wrapped in a 6-5Might have to get that truckin` and get lockedNigga you taste good like sour cream and chives over potatoesI`m a tornado, you just a puddleA poodle talkin` shit `bout to get one put in ya noodleBiotch ya got the nuts to be attackin` back at meMy chap I`m strapped have the fifty pound metal in the back seatAnd it`s all legal, got me dumpin` at ya Regal wid the do dirtyGotta get mine done no matter who hurt meEvery bitch I got I got the key to the spotBetter hide yo bitch before I get the key to your spotStand right over ya bed wid yo glockPut one right in ya head ya whole cakeYou ain`t even gon` play my shit rock up just like cocaineYou a no name I`m preachin` you still reachin` for fame[Tall Cann]Same old shit but a different dayBack at these niggaz like boomerangsNigga wanna come around and do my thangBangin` these niggaz for the dead issuesCall the paramedics to get youNot fuckin` wid me in this lifetimeNot thinkin` in my right mindLike Mike Tyson when it`s my timeGot these niggaz hollerin` woofBaby you ain`t hard as hundred proofMy fellow you just a nigga that won`t fit in a puddlePiece a shit, nut ridin` get your ass outta hidin`Dip on 21st street ridin` there won`t be a survivorYo ass ain`t no McGuyver you done say the wrong thangsThe method that I got to give `em bustin` out some teeth to say the lessYou can save the rest for laterI mean I`m way to major like E-major niggaYou claimin` my game but you ain`t nothin` but a haterSo when I pull out my tool scramYa riddled drain eggs and ham you in the fryin` panThe way I reach out and snap a nigga like a rubber bandOh no there goes another man tryna fuck wid the Siccmade famUh, Uh again?, God damn[CO]These niggaz talk alot of shit but don`t really know about C-OThat sneaky motherfucka hit ya ass like ya P-OWhen ya least expect it with the cold Smith and WessonHave my bitch, set you up at the telly get you undressin`Then it`s lights camera action my pistol`s blastin`Ya night went from cashin` to missin` fractionsBut shit do happen, so ya shoulda been readyInstead of doin` all that yappin` shoulda copped you somethin` heavyWe deadly, like rattlesnake bites y`all the taddlin` typeDeal wit my pain and probably rattle ya lifeSo instead of worryin` about ours you need to seeWhat`s the matter wit ya life?What`s the matter wit ya life boy, ya can`t get it right?What`s the matter wit ya life boy, ya can`t get a life?Then spark it up this hitter does so ya can`t get no iceSo now ya wanna hold a grudge wid, niggaz like usBeause we move shit like drugs where y`all stayin` and cusAnd talk about the same shit all dayAnd us we on the next page and after that the next pageSo try again the next day if you can`t fade us todayPractice makes perfect lil` guy stay in ya place[Brotha Lynch]I`m a Southside rider, funk providerLeave you in the trunk tied up, punk ya lied to usJust to tryna glock wid us get a piece of the pie wid usWe too O-G, I don`t fuck wid them mics cuzI`m diggy down it will take plots to get me nowAnd I got the fifty thou, wanna bet ya not get me powI`m the threat starter fire starter put a hole in ya StarterAnd you couldn`t find me cause it`s time for departureTryna get ya CD`s out, I know it start yaBlame it on me I got heat, I leave ya scortched upI`m on the porch and nuttin` up, Southside, keep lockedWhere the G`s knock niggaz out for fuckin` up, we tuck `em upMe and C-O and Tall Cann you can`t fuck wid usWe somethin` rough you niggaz be punkin` up we got pumps and stuffAll up in the trunk and stuff we be waitin` for attackGet me sprayin` on ya pack and now you layin` on ya backYou ain`t payin` all ya rap taxes institute of malpracticeI put ya raps in a casket you half plasticPatty mealed ass nigga put ya raps in the thrashbinYa clashin` wid the Burbank titan fasten ya seatbeltsI`m bout to make ya meat meltThat beer breath spittin` meat chunks at ya wig punkI fear less rather hear less, you niggaz is tryna pay lessI make ya days less trippin` on the famous tryna get famousNigga please[Tall Cann]Ain`t nobody fuckin` wit me, this side of the cityNorthside gangsta ride turn you liars to sissiesYou ain`t bangin` shit so miss me wid ya bullshit commentYou know me, I worship drama that was a curse from my mommaSo if you wanna bring it here boyNorthgate in El camino I`m right here boyAll day long all night strong we be runnin` the NorthAnd I can have niggaz from your hood, run on ya porchYa little cowards keep the gun in ya shortsWe keep the blunts and the ports to blaze upAfter ya spirit raise up you stillthink you can rap you need to give them days upIt`s gonna cost you ya cap takin` cheap shots at usSo cuz toss me the strap and put these streets on hushBecause they full of wack niggaz and they speak too muchAnd now we can`t have that because we G too muchSo I`ma end it on this fact nigga`ll bleed too muchYa keep talkin`

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Brotha Lynch Hung f CO, Tall Cann - Reachin` for Fame
3 часа назад 311 (не задано)

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