Dj Quik

Safe + Sound/Murder Was the Case soundtr

  hip-hop  g-funk  rap  west coast  west coast rap
571 3 часа назад

Текст песни Dj Quik - Safe + Sound/Murder Was the Case soundtr

Dj Quik - Safe + Sound/Murder Was the Case soundtr слова песни

MmmNow let`s get down to business, bitchesCause it seems like y`all just keep on tryin to diss thisNigga that you know that`s been down for yearsI`ve clowned for years, and y`all could never fade my peersOne two three four five six sevenNine, ten, Eiht you can`t winCause all the way around nigga I gets respectand youse a nigga that can`t even get no props in your setTragniew Park you say huhWanna be rippin, but now it`s time to do some set trippinSo listen close, cause I don`t want y`all to missThat I`m bout to break it down for this bitch, check itAcacia, Poplar Maple Spruce Cedar ElmWestside trees sprayin all the fleasthat`s from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders(So niggaz watch yo` ass at that center divider *gun blast*)Now Aaron Tyler, tell my why you seem so tameWhen I caught you at the airport, shakin like a crap gameYou looked up and you seen my niggaz cominAnd you looked like your bitch ass was bout to start runninBut all I wanted to do was kick a little coversation (yo whatup)And see if we can fix this little situationBut would I fuck you up was what you wonderedYeah, that`s probably why you changed your little pager number (punk ass)But bitches like you don`t growYou can`t even look me in my eye, let alone go toe to toeAnd callin me skinny, youse a clownI`ma call you Theo, cause you weigh ninety-two point three poundsWack ass actor, movie script killerFool don`t you know, Quik is still the niggaCompton psycho, boy you oughta quitYour records don`t hit, and bitches don`t jock your shitYou need to stay down you Compton clownand get off of the nuts of the niggaz with gutsBecause I`m down with the Trees, I`m down with Death RowI`m down with Black Tone, and I`m down with the fo`So when we cross paths and I hope that`s soonI`ma boot your motherfuckin ass to the moonYou need to quit bangin under false pretenseCause if don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense*chorus* If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make senseSo don`t kill game, let the pimpin commence If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make senseSo don`t kill game, let the people, commence If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make senseSo don`t kill game, let the pimpin commence If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make senseBecause you gotta give it up to the crown princeNow I`ma swing it to the right and, right into the left handTake a deep breath and, cook it like a chef andthis is dedicated to the C-P-TNo better yet T-T-P, or the niggaz that look up to meI make it my business, to be that true foreverand whenever I can come clever well that`s my endeavorso whether or not you understand, that there`s only one DJ Q-U-I-Kwith no C still you can`t be meBecause I`m floatin in my Lex and, depositin fat checks andgettin mad sex while I floss the NSX anddoin what I wanna, and youse a goner niggafor thinkin that you can catch me slippin on a street cornerRemember Compton`s in the house, and Quik is in the hoodSippin yak with all my niggaz cause it`s tooted goodSo don`t knock it til you try it, cause Eiht he tried to knock itBut he`s still walkin round with my nuts in his pocket (beyotch)So put tha P in it represent and sip that MillerAnd for those of y`all concerned, this is still Eiht Killa *gun blast*Let me take a load off my scrotum little pestIf it don`t make dollers nigga, you know the rest *chorus*Now I done sold my fuckin soul to the shit that I kickWhile you groupie ass niggaz keep on ridin the dickYou oughta know that DJ Quik ain`t your average everyday motherfucker(hah) Slick like a snake cause I stuck yaNow, I never had my dick sucked by a man befo`But you gon be the first you little trick ass hoeThen you can tell me just how it tasteBut before I nut I shoot some piss in your faceyou fuckin coward, tremblin like a nervous wreckCause when I caught your ass, you put yourself in checkAnd when you left my presence, you left expedientYou ain`t no fuckin killer, youse a comedian, beyotchTell me why you act so scaryGivin your set a bad name wit your misspelled nameE-I-H-T, now should I continueYeah you left out the G cause the G ain`t in youRemember that time you was rollin on the WestsideAnd a little brown bucket pulled up on your sideCaught at that light in your Camry in the midst of aREAL killer, tell me did you feel a little nervous (hell yeah)

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