Текст песни Guru f Killa Kaine, Mr. Moe, Pete Powers - Collectin` Props
Guru f Killa Kaine, Mr. Moe, Pete Powers - Collectin` Props слова песни
[Guru]Yeah, I`ma start collectin props, connectin plotsNetworkin like a conference cuz the nonsense it yet to stopPolice shake me down, which gangsta movie you like? This is real trifeReal life -- wanna get ya shot in the game, and earn some real stripesJust like Feds magazine you couldn`t imagine the battered sceneYou get shot up by little niggaz wearin gabberdeans(?)I`m tired of lookin like Malcolm, in the window thoughUnpack the strap, Baldhead Slick smokin indo yoI`m not gonna speak on the personal, street businessAs long as Moe and King keep witness, it`s Sunzu Part 2Bring your guards too, never knew the depth of my crewAlthough I`m God-body, Baldhead Slick used to be a nobodyNiggaz didn`t know that my crew`s thick[Killa Kaine]Aiyyo we killa hungry, I turn food back guerilla monkeyOnce I do that, nobody ain`t healin and comfyI make niggaz come out the rugbiesTalk shit, I`ll kill ya companyYour for that jake, take my head I`ll fake my deathThey wanna kill me cuz they hate my strengthThat`s why they vote when I raise the Mand let go, hollow fights from ExpoHear my tec blow, my tec blow electroThou which is set pose, these streets is Death RowOne through ya neckbone, jerk back ya headphoneNigga pop to that, you talk heat, hope you got the gatWho can amount to this? Sit back and pour a ounce of Cris`Bump a ounce to this, watch the bouncer gettestamentic, wild out, we gon` press ya districtSign out, or pull ya nines out and test ya biscuitsAin`t no talkin once ya head is twisted (son)Ain`t no talkin once ya head is twisted[Chorus: Guru] - 2XI`ma start collectin props, connectin plotsNetworkin like a conference, cuz the nonsense it yet to stopJakes shake me down, haters wanna take me downBreak it down {*gunshot*} blaow, all they heard was the sound[Mr. Moe]Fuck rappin bout hamburgersI`ma rap about murders, flippin work, and thirty burnersThe only thing cookin on the stove, is crack in the potWe flip pies like Jack In The BoxMy .44 be blastin the cops, I mastered the blockMy cousin`s a NARC, said sleep in the day, come out when it`s darkNiggaz`ll test ya heart - Black Rhinos rip a vest apartAnybody doubt, fuck it we knockin `em outTrinidad style with a body-shot, loud like when a Rotti` barkCold John Gotti heartCan`t be broke, ain`t no joke, yes I smoke, wooden `droFive oh-oh, summer `99, I seen the snowFuck the DEA and CEO - it`s sour dough nigga, Mr. Moe nigga...[Guru] Collectin props, collectin props[Pete Powers]I throw punk niggaz through cement walls, and break sheetrockCompound sound before the beat drop -- beat breakI shake shit like Japanese earthquakesThunderstorm, sweaty palms, grab firearmsBlisters on my soles, runnin on hot coals from po-poYa faced-off, get scraped off my windshield, I been healedRapped up in my turban, green colored SuburbanBleach fuck a detergent...I whip ass and kick ass and clear paths with blowtorchesBurn down fortresses, and crack foreheads like porcelainI got a habit for the beefPut ya soul on a hole of the earth where it`s mad deepDon`t let that coal burn ya backMy name is Pete Power, burn ya gatThe devil made me mad, tell him to send me a kiteand I`ma send one back with autographs from murder fans...[Chorus fading out]