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JIM JONES

Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)

  rap  hip-hop  dipset  east coast rap  hip hop
502 3 часа назад

Текст песни JIM JONES - Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)

JIM JONES - Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana) слова песни



Текст песни JIM JONES - Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)




Lemme two-twelve wit' you for secondTrue story[Jim Jones]Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)From bad dreams (nightmares)I hope the Feds don't grab the team( )Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (DipSet)We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake upTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)And outlaws is what it made usWe live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')Until I see a ribbon in the skyCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)Due to my political tiesI can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)And if my gun boys ain't hear of yaYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder yaYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmareYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair NikesBoy you talk about my life hereFuck wit OGs that put dice in the mirrorAnd they tell me that life's but a gambleThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal[Chorus]Put my emotions aside (why?)Cause they can never take my alive (no)I'm a ride (I'm a ride)And don't cry (don't cry)Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)And if I'm standing in front of the judgeGuess what?He can never take me alive (no)I'm a ride (I'm a ride)And don't cry (don't cry)[Juelz Santana]Poured off BentleyLooking like steroidsJetson car, I'm looking like ElroyMaserati lookin' like a shark on landNeiman Marcus edition, contrabandNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping andFive thousand spent on pants, man (man)Bitches love it, niggas want itSo bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridgeYou better stay out the forest, warningIt's Santana he fucks,Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucksI see you clear, my antennas is upAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocketWhat you want? (What you want?)Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shitWell come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirtYour corpse, flies will emerge[Chorus][Jim Jones]They say your enemies is close, your friends even closerListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)Now, do you wanna ride or die?Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)I'm drunk staring BI need therapyThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracyPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayoI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payrollMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)And it all come back, like grams of the hardYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady (DipSet)Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)They try to put cuffs on me and my assailantsWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)They try to catch me out of boundsThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)A thug changes, and love changesAnd since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes[Chorus]




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