Gravediggaz

Running Game on Real

  hip-hop  horrorcore  rap  wu-tang  hip hop
552 3 часа назад

Текст песни Gravediggaz - Running Game on Real

Gravediggaz - Running Game on Real слова песни

[Intro: Frukwan]Yo, it`s that Brooklyn shit!Y`all niggas ready? NAAAAAAAH!Y`all ready? YEEEAH!Yo, oh shit[Chorus: Frukwan]Runnin game on bailA nigga might find it hard walkin alone in a graveyardRunnin game on bailAnd if ya can`t compete I`ll leave ya 6 Feet Deep, nigga![Frukwan]Yo, I be the Pied Piper, enlightener, holy cipherWatch the God strike like a viperPotential energy pumps the mainstreamWarn a nigga, crazy enough to return the dustMy chrome crushed the image, considered it a messJump the C.O., bust the captain, and hop the fenceDid manuveur like a cougar, usin night visionInterrogate intruders, rest, puff my BuddhaThe grand child, father of mad styleBattle Gods on file, exiled since I lost the trialBehold, control niggas like croaks, insert datsDeath blow, aim and hit straight to the heartIt`s a strong wind, niggas is thin as tin stripsImmeasureable wealth, campaignin that wack shitThe barriers ready, engaged lock finderFox 1, launch the sidewinderGothic hip-hop break, I blast microscopic barsTil it ends communication, only seen through AllahGod body, search Darth Khadafi, killa of NazisTake heads like Jake DiViassiClips of snake venom, toos rock, instructor, destructJust burnt from lyrical refluxTramp through decisions, battlin and collisionsHigh speed, still a nigga tryin to breathe, what nigga?[Chorus x4][Poetic]I come with the Killa Arm-Leg-a-Leg-a-Arm-HeadReady with the bomb threat, fuck all of the calm shitWaitin til the bomb hits, make a nigga vomitCuz he gave it all when preparin to respond witMy correspondece, only young foes fall as soldiers in the Cold WarPowered by solarAlways in the trench, intense until I dentThe armour of the Devil brigade, slugs are spentAnd dark rebels invade your tent, with the intentTo leave your body bent, I let the shotty ventTo lay your chest, penetrate your vestLook for your family traits, as you defecateYou`re dyin in the stench, nothin can preventA violent takeover, the modern J. HovaCannot be tempted by no type payolaColder than the Polar, your bling-bling is overFuck all you fake Costra NostrasGrym is a real street soldier, put you in a deep comaYour weak streak is over, finitoI sting like 10 million mosquitoes with hypodermic needles[Chorus x4]

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