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C-Bo and Brother Lynch

187 on 24th Street

333 3 часа назад

Текст песни C-Bo and Brother Lynch - 187 on 24th Street

C-Bo and Brother Lynch - 187 on 24th Street слова песни

[Chorus 2x]There was a 187 on 24th StreetThere was a 187 on 24th StreetDid you know there was a 187 on 24th StreetSee you can get yo mind tore up fuckin wit us, we let straps bust[Brother Lynch]21st Street, 24th and 29th Florinreau to Metiview just to say a fewEvery night I used to walk down the street drunk with a bottle and my strapCuz block niggas don`t sock niggas they shoot niggas in the backWhile you ain`t lookin, yo livin get tooken, run up in yo living roomWith choppers tryin to take out yo poppers, it`s a fucked up interludeI was only 17 with a dream in a scheme Apparently the gangsters took me under, no wonder It must of been a gang bang thang and the slang caine gameGotta maintain range on you roaches like dirty poachersI may leave you in the game even if you broke shitCuz I don`t give a fuck I put the quarter in the slotAnd play the game until I see what I got, I let straps popIf I got to cuz the streets is hot too so I pop foolsNever unsderstood em couldn`t understand em and I`m not tooDown for half them bandits so I ran it the way I had toMet him in the park after dark And it took less than seconds for the 9 to spark the park[Chorus 2x][Brother Lynch]See it`s drastic, put yo body all up in plasticWe drag shit to the river and deliver yo ass quickWe always bad kids didn`t even like eachother that muchAll we did was mean mug and put that 9 on the clutchNiggas could get touched, we touchin em up like Gerry CurlsEvery girl was trippin we ripped em to the levy wit himSaid he earl like Earl the Pearl don`t miss to often in a coffinYeah that`s your new world, we keep it poppinAutomatics be knockin Garden Block beats Cuz we the hardest knock on the streetsJig CD`s like rock on the streetsWe ridin yo shit, cuzz and we lovin you for itYou can`t ignore it it`s that rip shitThat put you in the trunk half dead with yo wig split shitLive that shit everyday, all day, every chance we getAnd in the backyard we got pits that eat raw meat in tid bitsThey just as Sicc I don`t give a fuck put the quarter in the slotAnd play the game until I see what I got, I let gats pop[Chorus x2][Brother Lynch]Come against me I look in yo face and I don`t see nothin but hateAnd even though you say you love me I`m still clinchin the weightThat`s how it goes in this state where blue rags murder blue rags And who lags get body bagged in Mazarati bags zipped with toe tagsIt`s so bad, see I don`t know who to trustLast time I trusted a nigga he came out with some stuffHe was talkin shit about me, nigga and I didn`t know what to doSo I keep that heat that`ll eat like Cujo and that`ll fold up ya crewLike new clothes, I choose those niggas that carry 4-4`s and do thoseThings that`ll put somethin cold up in yo toesYa whole body froze no matter you think I should kick it witI do it solo and that`s it ... you trip[Chorus x 2]

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