Текст песни JT the Bigga Figga f The Fast One - Game Tight
JT the Bigga Figga f The Fast One - Game Tight слова песни
[Chorus]Game tight with the shit we popOne love to real niggaz cause the game don`t stopFrom the T-R-U to the D-P-GsFrom the Firm to the Wu-Tang Clan for show seeKnow me fuck around with the mob for showHit these funksters 3 times crazy and get lowCause everyday everyday fuck all that dramaI hit the Bahamas for shows to get paid[J.T. The Bigga Figga]Come on, ease on down, ease on downThis funky tack the Fast One done layed downSipping on CrownRoyal, I done found a sick soundSmooth, but rough enough for the undergroundNow whose gone move the crowd like Mike Mike JordanBut I`m the type that others want to try and be likeI recite and shines right with a cordless micI comes tight with more air than a pair of Nike`sI flows constantly sort of like a faucetLyrical bully, with a bulldozer you couldn`t pull meNow blow the douja with this type of shit I`m writingI`m smoking hash ready to clash like the titansUnforgettable like Natalie`s remix of her father songI keep my vocals strong, high off the cheech and chongAnd when ya feel the domeFunny bone makes me tickleI comes colder than the north pole to freeze ya like an icecicle[Chorus][The Fast One]Up early in the morning channel 42 on cablePager going off up on my living room tableShaking dominoes with P the reason to stack some more cheeseCalifornia breezing gets hected in drought seasonEvery time I hit the lab, thinking bout o`sWith the D-O double D and the Figga you wouldn`t knowCause the combination is tighter than 4 knotsAnd you can here the ass cold knocking for 4 blocksAnd showstops ain`t the thang to doCounty checking no disrespecting them boys in blueAnd you know I`m for black with green in my pocketsPass a note to the teller at the bank, so I can shock herSee, every dollar we stacking is to the ceilingAnd after love making is for shaking the herbal healinAnd catching feelings is a no noBreaking more bitches and hitting switches in the low lowBounce and turn, like my homie Makaveli we ain`t hard to findHit a nigga with a drop trying to flip a dimeAnd stacking papers is a daily routineInstead of dope fiends, serving versus teller machinesAnd catching coke kings slipping at the docks at the bayCause the shit dried up so he put g`s on layawayAnd no mistakes, we lay them down for the stretchWithout a shot and had a fully loaded macOn our way to the NYC we drop gameWith round trip tickets, we kick it on stolen planesAnd for the things that we can do for ya`llOne love to 2Pac, Mr. C and Biggie SmallsAnd to all the soldiers in the game that we playFrom the Bronx to the LBC up to the BayCause everyday everyday fuck all that dramaI hit the Bahamas for shows to get paid[Chorus]