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Текст песни La the Darkman - Now Y

La the Darkman - Now Y слова песни

[Intro: La The Darkman]Yeah. Yeah. Yo. Yo.Yo. Trapacanti. Yo.[Chorus: La The Darkman]When I walk these streets, like bamboo, I`m strappedGet your brain tapped by fourty-four caliber gatsIt ain`t like that, cats gotta learn to relaxIf I let the gun clap, you have no wish, you`re on your ass[La The Darkman]If you see at cat without his vest hangin by his neckThen La done it, I`m tryin to see this benz six-hundredWith a fly bitch, a gat and cognac gettin bluntedReadin the tablet of my money from the kids that I frontedYou don`t want it, shootin slugs outta an armored green lex>From four pounds that fuck you up like a plane wreckDon`t gamble with a tech, car is quicker than the eyeMy style, top secret like a Bosnian spyNow Y, New York have you laced in chalkThe South Bronx, what you thought when we let are guns talk?It`s bloodsport, the Darkman call it like he seesBeen in buildings, doin eighty in a black m3Medallion swingin a linx, costin bount ten g`sN.Y.C., where killas bust cops at me[Chorus][La The Darkman]New York ain`t fuckin playas, we live gun sprayersMovin crack frm the streets of Manhatt` to the HimalayansAmadeus, why these Cali craps tryin to front?Ass gotta cut ropes, tryin to bungee jumpTight cunt, all white planes roll, we night creepersin bubble coats, eight hundred beapers, force one sneakersI stay fly, holdin it down for my blockWhat up ock? You could get a four-four shotAnd don`t think it can`t happen cuz you on the T.V. rappinI sneakin from B.X., B.K. and the StatenManhatten and Queens jookin kids for ringsNew York, New York, the big city of dreamsSome rap legends were put in jail, you thought we failedNow I`m back like LL, when he was rockin the bellsTakin rap back to the days of foodstamps and trampsPit stains in the stair case and vise-grip clampsKid, I`m amped, cats try to diss the originatorsIn Land Cruisers, on Timbs, subways and elevatorsHoldin steel, you frontin niggaz better get realI`m gettin money, blow my nose with a hundred dollar billHow you feel? And fuck where you at, it`s where you fromTo that cats, that`s eighty-five: blind, deaf and dumbRun and get your gun, I come in the name of AllahTo my people, the Inglewood family swine, power refinedYou can`t see, we runnin outta timeIf the east and west kill eachother, who gon` shine?We losin our mind, the rap shit is turnin into crimeNowadays soft niggaz bust techs and ninesSo, what?

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