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Lone Star Ridaz f Fat Joe

South Park/South Bronx

221 3 часа назад

Текст песни Lone Star Ridaz f Fat Joe - South Park/South Bronx

Lone Star Ridaz f Fat Joe - South Park/South Bronx слова песни

(Fat Joe)Yeah, Terror Squad motherfuckersDopehouse, that nigga Joey Crack ya heardUh, no doubt, yeah, uh, yo[Fat Joe]What up Houston, same shit new placeIt`s about time y`all niggas featured on a Screw tapeFat Joe and SPM, the best be themAny set trying to test, gone rest withinYou fucking with mexicans, and pure bordosDown ass niggas that`ll blow you with the sawed-offYou know you see the photos in the Lowrider magsI`m blowing like a dragon, in a loced out wagonCar just sagging, and we shitting on foolsChicas go crazy when they see my 22`sForget them other dudes, man they numbers is upTerror Squad, Dopehouse who`s fucking with usI guess it`s the feddy, I done got em all scared of usMore ridas, more guns you ain`t prepared for usThere`s no comparing us, we real and you fakeLike going in too deep, you can`t chew straight[Chorus - 2x]The South BronxThe South, South BronxSouth ParkThe South, South Park[SPM]Up jump the boogie, to the boogie down BronxAnyone against us catching hot rocksYou fucking cops, know who shot up the parking lotSP got more red dots than chicken pocksTwo hitting glocks at my door panelsPutting holes in your flannels, now how you like them applesEveryday I`m in khakis and a wife beaterAnd everyday I pour a four in a two literFuck some brew nigga, I`ma stay a true sipperMy bitch tripping, cause my shirt stay full of glitterI`m the last of the litter, the fucking runtAnd this weed in my blunt, ain`t no fucking pumpSo what, I`m here till I goCollabo with Fat Joe, just to let you rats knowThis is family on Happy P`s jamming beatsYou hoes ain`t balling, take those twenties off that Camry[Chorus - 2x][SPM]You motherfuckers got no idea what I`ve been throughI`m in the club packing my grandmother`s jinsuSmoking tough, my jewelry is broken cuffsLoading slugs, somebody give Los a hugDon`t discuss much if it ain`t bout paperI built the nine bedroom on a solid acreI`m murdering, fuck it I`ll kill her and himHit the curb, and fuck off a perfect rimI buy iy, cook it and serve itMy weed is lime green just like the KermitNo the churchin and the world could ever clean my scrillI raid my own dopehouse and say it`s just a drillI`m on glash on my ass like a peacockWhile you fake niggas changing like the weed spotAnd my team got boriquas and mexicansWe smith and wessin`n, fuck that fighting and wrestling[Chorus - 2x]

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