Текст песни Krumb Snatcha - Gangsta Disease
Krumb Snatcha - Gangsta Disease слова песни
How many glocks can you cock on one record?Videos of hoes naked, hip hop`s been infectedNow lets correct it, before it`s too lateTo fix our mistake of lettin record labels infiltrate (for real)Cause if there`s money to makeThen there`s an artist they create, ignorate to hip hop, meanin he`s fakeNow lets take the average emcee for exampleThey lacin with the same used bullshit samplesI watch and construct a rapper bout his conductAnd about, how many niggaz he done buckedBut ask the question, you carry gats and rock knifes?But ask yourself, can you rock the motherfuckin mic?All this gangsta advocatin is aggravatinAnd aggitatin, it`s time for us to stop confiscatinWith wack rapper with that emceesThats plagued by the gangsta disease[Chorus: x2]Now everybody wants to be a mobsterBig gold chain, ghetto fame, eatin lobsterLexus keys, vacations over seasHip hop got infected by the gangstga diseaseWanna be drug incorporator, street life narratorBut nothin but a bullshit immitatorExagerrator with the bust-shot chatter, that don`t flatterThat mean you need to change your subject matterYou scatter like mice, when I read lifeInto a microphone device, nothin niceI`m livin once a year plus the annualDon`t need instructions for bustin percussions I rock without the manualLike a cannibal, watch Krumb eatUp any self-proclaimed killer comin from the streetsCause his speech don`t move meThats like watchin one of them old John Wayne western moviesThe Fugees said it loud and clear"Wack emcees in the rear" cause hip hop is out here[Chorus x2]So what? You carry hot glocks and rocksSo what? That type of rap is number one on the chartsSo what? Your video was on MTVYou still ain`t an emcee to meSo whether you toke nines or bust rhymes to me it`s no interestWhile I distribute lyrics and pump the cracks on your Benz`sPart time rapper, part time gun clapperBut what you really are is just a full-time actorCrumb snatchers, pullin niggaz cardsCause if y`all was really hard, your ass`d be barredIt`s kind of odd, your gettin pimped by your labelA and R`s tellin you fables on why he don`t pay youSo while you kick rhymes of doin crime and bustin ninesYour record company`s robbin your stupid-ass blindSo now your fired, a job flippin burgersOr back to the lab writin them fantasy murders[Chorus x2]Niggaz pleeeaaase!