Текст песни Kool Keith f Mark Live - Shit Expands
Kool Keith f Mark Live - Shit Expands слова песни
Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens Manhattan, Staten IslandKeith! In the house[Kool Keith]It ain`t about the bitch with a wig like she comin from ChinaY`all fronted in rented Benzes with Avis on `emNo breakfast, I`m goin home, fuck Chelsea or dinerLet the guys with the chrome buckets expose the cuffs, be a co-signerI`m in your ass man, close like your Starter jacket linerDr. J sharper, plug your asshole up with a tub stopperYour wife`s a New York City BreakerYour baby`s mom is a pop-locker, know the metropolitan areaCustodian nigga, you sanitation worker shit cleanerFloor mopper, look down on the city with binocularsPiss out at choppersDefecate 80 thousand feet in the airI flip your small game, take your small urban territoryPut the street in the airMy shit rise, increase like subway fareScuffle your dinner wearYour sneaker line ain`t makin it, I piss on four pairYou know the big-head boy from the projects, retarded motherfuckerYou know you be in child care, you better stay thereYour crew get picked up with shitty diapers from daycareYour foe be his crib deathThe top rappers receive hot dogs up they ass, they get FMark flush the toilet, you shit nextExpand your stomach range with tummy painsShit in the back of your Bentley when it rainsLeave your wooden panels with shit stainsThrow the turds out the windowsWatch them bounce in the carpool lanesHot 97[Chorus: repeat 4X]The shit expand, over your Jacob the diamond watchThe penis is loose, we piss in your hand[Mark Live]Yo... yo where`s the block at? UhhThey say 106th & Park is on, I`m mad, fuck it it`s onI haven`t heard a hard record in years, uhhEverybody dancin, Harlem Shakin, strip Free nakedAnd put a pole up, and watch the ratings go upAnd if AJ steps, take his Jacob and slap off the makeupI`m in the crowd like Lee Malvo, with a sniper rifleA hockey mask, a butcher knifeYo who knows what I`ll doThey sellin dreams with a rap battle - uh-huhLook - yeah - you rappers are kids, and rappin with a rap rattle... nobody ever comes out - that`s rightNo twelve inches, no fires, no jetsEarly retired, no linksNo chains, no videos, no baguettes - uhh"Don`t Speak," uh-huh - I`m gettin Gwen StefaniShe`s tossed up, sellin pussy like every weekSo don`t fight me - uhh, you can hype me - that`s rightI`m liable to go out with a terrorist styleI`m liable to flow out with a terrible styleViacom bought you (suckers)I`m outta here nigga I`m changin the dial[Kool Keith]Hot 97[Chorus][Kool Keith]No more cars and shit, we suicide bombersNigga, walk up in your radio stationWe get gas from the gas station niggaYou better ask public relations, blow out your DJ boothWith hats off, like motherfuckin Dr. SeussNo buckets, strictly bombs under the North Face gooseCaught you with acid babyWe put it in your motherfuckin orange juiceFuck a turned up capHow bout a burnt up motherfuckin baseball capWith a whack-ass rapWe detonate with three sticks of dynamite through your turntablesBlow out your ass crackYou ain`t the motherfuckin pimp, you ain`t the motherfuckin mackReview this right, you gon` drink a daquiriAre you gon` come back to meAre you gon` get smacked from meFuck around look how you act to me... bitch... Hot 97[Chorus]