Текст песни Frukwan - 2 to Da Head
Frukwan - 2 to Da Head слова песни
[Intro: Frukwan]Check it out... check it out..Yo.. yo... yo[Chorus 2X: Frukwan]Little Johnny Walker Red, 2 to the headBig shot, slingin` crack and rocks, found deadSome say it was the copsMothers said it was our brothers on the block[Frukwan]Yo, makin` stacks of cash money, feel the drama dropCREAM of the crop, I keep it hotFeel the rhyme in it, dominant, fake ass talkin`Muthafuckas fuck the wine, get ya mind openSo he wanna sail with the six pack?Cork his thought, shit to muzzle, chase a trouble, pass, guzzleIt`s lookin` bad, sellin` every fuckin` thing that he hadOsirus, weak ass computer virusThe vintage fighter, Johnny UnitedClaim to be the finest heavyweight, walkin` Empire StateLivin` lavish, but in exaggerate of lustFunds way to the tongues, no excuse for bigger gunsRendevous makin` moves, the physical endevourHypin` fright, kill and excite, my P. defenderRended you in comp, like a hundred niggaz when they stompMuthafuckas get stomped, what?[Chorus 2X][Frukwan]Yo, watch when brothers get ill, I knew thatPain and repurcuss`, bust, bust, no discussRush in position to blaze, stard bustin`Circumstance put you in a panic, hold ya cannonFox 5, got ya hangin` from the wireWhere the debris trunks, pieces of lead heat up ya bodyIn six to avenge what it is, when a brother gets shell shockedFigure enemies paradoxThe tense, relentless, never end thisThe scandal was assault and bust the vaultBrothers that fought, at easeCrash the `ment, just to free up buttsLookin` forward and to livin` it upFive/six deep, followin` Jeeps and ordernentsWeapon supply, fugitive spies, subordinantsSmoke screen, three brothers done lost their livesFrom the team, while gettin` get caught up in the government scheme[Chorus 2X][Frukwan]Yo, brace the armor, face the cap slugs in your backWe escape, through the labryinth, hopeBattle is skilled decision, act of precisionThe coke was depth bein` the only one leftCouldn`t divide the rules skated with the jewelsLay low with pesos, chronic and blowAdd a couple stunts, and his trail got coldHeaded straight for the block when he drove his RollsSeen and heard, yo, word, give me the fourPoint blank at the tank, empty clip at the dourSlow your roll, the pain was too immense to runKnew that his time would come, top issueBranded by a government officialThe boys in blue, Paparazzi circled the blockRounded up six cats whose phones were tappedStill frontin`, nobody knew nothin`, yo![Chorus 2X]