Текст песни Da Beatminerz f Black Moon, Lord Have Me - Devastatin`...That`s Us!
Da Beatminerz f Black Moon, Lord Have Me - Devastatin`...That`s Us! слова песни
[Buckshot Shorty]Niggas get hurt on my blockNiggas do dirt on my blockSome push work on my blockLittle niggas hustle laptops, ragtopsIn the high-speed chase from the bad copsTNT, fuck that, they ain`t seein meThe heat is in the seat of my threeNowadays deez pop niggas for no reasonLike it`s nigga season, fuck that let`s visit the precintSon I got the rubber glovesFor the rubber grip snub in the jar by loveI play the block like the cars I loveThe Gods love Buckshot regardless - I burn the hardestI used to be formerly know as the artistKnow it`s back to Buck, I smack niggas what don`t start itCuz I play the block like corn storesHardcore where my niggas hold rocks in they jaw[Chorus - Lord Have Mercy]Watch out, shut shit down - That`s us!Keep it King Kong, aim string long - That`s us!Gotta haul weight all day nigga - That`s us!On fire! - That`s us!On fire! - That`s us!We don`t back down, we back `em down - That`s us!Put the cash up, we mash it down - That`s us!Ghetto bastards, we crowd around - That`s us!On fire! - That`s us!On fire! - That`s us![Buckshot Shorty]It`s the block where we all hand and we all slangShots to the mall nang, never ball rangEverybody got game, we hustle and muscle for fameGhetto celebs, you know my nameI put the work on it, I be the first on itAnd at the first of the month, I`ll be the worst on itThem jealous niggas be gettin me hypeWanna make my block hot like my streetbike tailpipeDo what you feel like, cuz I`ma still kill likeTwenty niggas who feel hype, cuz I`m still rightOne in ya windpipe, one hit`cha real lightSteak-n-cheese, ain`t no mistakin theseWe pop niggas and we pop deezEspecially when we drop treesFuck that, we pop with easeNigga this is the block and shit don`t stopLittle use, got bullet proof suits to rock[Chorus][Buckshot Shorty]Fuck actin like it`s all love, fuck thatIt ain`t all love when the guns off the gunrackBeef, been there done that`Til that, a dude can`t drill thatEven if I never feel thatBut tickle the shit you come with or go withYou like bleedin with no kit, uselessIf you got a choice choose thisCrown Heights, Crow Hill, everything is Christmas for realWe rob and stealBoost a little `Lo a little Tom Hil`We don`t really wear Tommy Hil but everything we rock they stealMoney is the root of all evilBut the Devil ain`t a dollar billYou better get that money - I`m gettin itI ain`t bullshittin it, I`m tryin to get rid of itEvery bit, every little cent in my bank accountFuck workin thirty years on the paper route[Chorus][Lord Have Mercy]Yea, yo, yeaBlack Moon style, whatYea, yea, what, yeaBeatminerz style, what, whatUh, uh, whatLord Have style niggaUh-huh, uh-huh