Текст песни McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I. - What Part of the Game, слова песни McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I.

Текст песни McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I. - What Part of the Game

McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I. - What Part of the Game слова песни

[Panama P.I.]I`m the greatest rapper in the world, you who tryin to kid manI will slam dunk on your big manBeen rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of platinum chairsPredict future cash and it`s near, my speech is dittlyI bust shots until the heat gets heavyFuck bitches until the sheets get sweatyBeats and melodies, will make me blinkI`ll pull my shank out, and give a warrior`s cryIf you ain`t down wit my crew, all you dieYou can tell I`m real, by lookin in the ball of my eyeI will get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my babyCan my some dough on Teem SummitCountin the loot, fountain the youth, the young GodHere`s the inside thug, like a MarmashadSome wanna have emotions and kill mePut the toast to my kidney, when I speak most of them feel meSo, keep my name off ya breath`Fore my nigga Gruff take the chain off ya chestAll guaranteeing, blaow, take the brain off ya neckOff the top of the dough, one shot and you`ll blowFuckin wit Panama P.I., guarantee I`ll take ya outta ya zone[Cam`Ron]Aiyo me and my nigga Hais, ride, lay looseCase ya try to play Zeus, got the tray deuceHidin right inside the bubble, face gooseNot to quickly to make to make newsI`ma ace deuce, caught cases, I got Gotti and O.J. juiceAnd my crew, you`re very stackless, very cock nowPhase of every Rocky, turn your caviar ass into, umChicken teriyaki, Spanish nigga try to front on meI say papi Rocky, wish he would of shot meCuz I don`t care if he frail or cock D.When I got the glock, B, can`t stop meAnd no judicial system could affix me, try to lock meOver papes on mine, Mr. D.A., someone to lace ya dimeAnd tell P.H. that the camera job, come on, that`s a waste of mineCuz I got my girl Curry, live in D.C.Work the spring court, you know for me, that just scaryHow Harlem nigga do, get in the building bitch hurryBefore my girl see, back to top, so she can give me one on jurySays hung, got her sprung, she fell that I`m youngHer little toy boy, make her lick my ass wit a tongueShe`s so smart, she`s dumb, but I keep, tomorrow ain`t promisedNow I might need a one way flight to St. ThomasAnd at the same time I got a JAG fetishAnd who knows, I might have bad creditI can`t borrow from niggas I ass bettedGo to your girl, I pop my truck fasterDon`t make me Flex on you ghetto style like Funkmaster[Chorus: Panama P.I.]You got money, what it look like?You got crack, what it cook like?You got a song, wit the hook like?Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took micsYou got crack, what it cook like?You got a song, wit the hook like?You got some money, what it look like?What part of the game is that?You fuck around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat[I-Born]I live the God knowledge, my book of life, he read like twiceFive percent shine, today the grease like, my attribute`s likeParetic chrome, I thrown, throw it at your dome, blownIt be known, like Sa Salasi clone, connect wit one zoneCybernetic, verbal buck slang, king ebonicNickname Farad, all of ya dude, rock me MuhammadI came swift, wit off as the shit, they couldn`t catch itDefine this, got drawn so swift, couldn`t detect itThug covert, sip Scotch drink, just like an IrishMove like the infamous full blown antivirusApollus, mad Olympic, fragile fitnessSupreme gymnast, ancient decent, homey scripturesEquilibrium, catch me at the Wimbledon, thug gentlemenGuess jeans, Wu shirts, construction TimberlandYou`re nobody wit nothing and your name shall be NathanWho you facin, slugs blazin the amazin[McGruff]Aiyo check it, I used to live recklessSnatch kids necklace, nigga respect thisA nigga catch this, blaow, trigga specialistIs your death wish, leave you rib and chestlessGun ho, real life thug, every one knowFrom the Bumjo, to the kids, to ColomboMy niggas locked down doin state, did you rumble?Twenty five to L, on the humble, real thug shitPlug shit, catch you, wouldn`t dare fuck witCare rugged, from the skulls down to the Timb`sSurroundin your Benz, wit niggas houndin your gemsYo pump this jam in your jointAll my thug niggas cruisin wit the mamas on pointsCity wise guys, gritty high guys, pretty mamasI even make boricua, shake the titty tatasHarlem World slugger, watch it explode like Pearl HarborScrew ma, get a girl`s VodkaAnd get them hotter, slide `em off, twist `em properYo I`m a sex fiend, fuckin in my 400 hundred Lex` ringFlex cream, presidential rolly wit Gets gleam[Chorus 2X]

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McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I. - What Part of the Game
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McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I.

What Part of the Game

Текст песни McGruff f Cam`Ron, I-Born, Panama P.I. - What Part of the Game

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