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Текст песни Heather B. - I Get Wreck

Heather B. - I Get Wreck слова песни




[ VERSE 1 ]I ain`t one to gossip, but I heard your shit was wackAnd I ain`t one to brag, but this jam is fatI won`t push you to the extreme to say I`m all thatBut if you have to ask, then you must think thatDon`t understand what it means to be conceitedNever left a sentence or a verse incompletedIn a battle I won`t get defeatedAnd I don`t get mad, I get heatedHad to wreck the ones that wanted to fight meDon`t give a damn if nobody likes meNever lit the likes of pipes or hypeI`m livin for me, myself and the micLove to rock Nikes and a dope sweat hoodieYou can`t buy vinyl at no Sam GoodyHip-hop DJ`s, what will you doRecord companies don`t know, when you do, buy twoThey`re killin hip-hop with easeAnd I hate those damn cd`sNow let`s talk about the birds and Heather B`sSisters, don`t allow yourself to get skeezedAnd believe I got the mad self-respectSo recognize and understand my repAnd if you show me any disrespectYou better know that I get wreck[ CHORUS ]And I get wreck(On and on and on and on) --> Grand Puba(Ugh! Ugh! Ugh)[ VERSE 2 ]I`m not a star, cause I don`t shineI`m a go-getter, cause I will go get mineI ain`t lazy, moody or shadyAnd I won`t lie, but I am crazyThe same way I chill, I will illAnd I wanna beat you cause your ???? need a killI got skills and I don`t pop pillsAnd no man can say that I want his diznillsI won`t fix anything that`s not brokenRather jump the turnstyle than pay a tokenI`m no criminal, I`m not crookedBut I can`t say that I`ll never do itThe Kenny Parker beats are just stupidHe finds the funky shit and he loops itAdds the flavor, bass, hi`s and snaresBooks a studio session and I meet him thereI grab my lyrics and get a microphone checkAnd open my mouth, then commence to wreck[ CHORUS ][ VERSE 3 ]I used to get weeded, but now I hate the smellSo I stopped just to keep my braincellsDon`t like the feelin of bein highLike to stay down-low and write dope rhymesIf I gotta be high, it`s high-paidAnd it`s not my style to high-profileNot the only child, one of fourThank God my pops was too broke to make moreSo I make dough for me and the famI never know when they might need a helpin handDon`t get me wrong, I never flash lootAnd every now and then I sport my Doc Marten bootsOnly in the winter do I wear TimbosNever been called a broad or bimboDon`t do the limbo cause it`s cornyAnd I wish they`d sell Snapple by the 40It took a while to get my album setNow I`m here and I`m gettin wreck[ CHORUS ][ SHOUT OUTS ]Yeah, Heather B gonna give a few shout outs, you knowPeace to BDPPeace to Biz MarkiePeace to Kid CapriPeace to Teddy Ted & Special KAnd I`m out

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