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Текст песни Potna Deuce - Let U Tell It

Potna Deuce - Let U Tell It слова песни

(I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)(Since everywhere I go is trouble-infested)(I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)(I talks bad, way about a silly tramp bitch)(I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)(Since everywhere I go is trouble-infested)(I ain`t gotta lie to kick it, or lounge)(I talks bad, way about a silly tramp bitch) --> Rube[ VERSE 1: Rube ]Congratulations for your patience, folksYoung Rube comin through with the trey gold spokesI need yokes on a bitch I wanna get withI need a old school mob with a shift kitLeft, right, head bobbin, mob type of chaosAll you punks talkin jeal`, tear the shit way offCause I ain`t with the funny style charadesI rather hit `em doggy while I`m tuggin dookie braidsI`m talkin bad muthafucker with the sick rappinI`m talkin slang from the turf and not the pig latinMy pops told me when I was at the AJNever become a suspect of a date rapeIf she don`t want ya you don`t need herYou don`t buy her clothes, you don`t feed herNever would I cross over for applauseNever would I save a hoe for the drawers"Can`t we all get along" was the questionThat they shot to the blacks and the MexicansAnswer came back like this, potna, "Eat a dick"Shit is fucked up and you too blind to see a trick(I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns)(And I ain`t trippin, my shoes is tied)(I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns)(Cause muthafuckers mo` dirty than a shit stain)(I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns)(And I ain`t trippin, my shoes is tied)(I got no words for the sucker butts, the tricks, the clowns)(Cause muthafuckers mo` dirty than a shit stain) --> Beesh[ VERSE 2: Beesh ]Crack my cranium, check what`s insideI got a whole lot of things on my mindFeelin like a bloodclotI`m stuck in a state, weary of the jack moveI couldn`t stand the rock, I stay hip to the black groovePlaya pimpin shittin for the swingers, manHouse parties bunk, gettin out of handYoung buck strivin for the cockola15 and couldn`t wait till I was olderAt that point didn`t think about carryinA fat gat, all my potnas, they be buried inAnd now I`m my twenties and I`m like fuckI got the rabbit`s foot searchin for the right luckAnd house parties shut down before they get startedA young fool had to go and try to get retartedThat`s how it goes in the nine-o, I can`t deny itI`m out to get mine, pockets never on a dietBlack on black and brown on brownCrime in the town, player haters and the cock hounds( ? ) old school left in the old daysBefore the crack, before the AIDS, before the ( ? )(I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin)(Funk Slave soldier in the paint gettin heated)(I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin)(The gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter)(I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin)(Funk Slave soldier in the paint gettin heated)(I gaffle on the baggy when I`m jigga-jigga-limpin)(The gut runna killa, call me beaver hunter) --> Chezski[ VERSE 3: Chezski ]And really when you think about the pain strokeBusy tryina do for me and all my kinfolkI hate it when I`m lookin at my po` fatherStrugglin to keep his head above the risin waterBut still he`s gotta push in the cold windTake a look up at his life till it soaks inAnd promise to myself when I`m holdin fatI`ma break him off a chunk and give some love backGet it `fore they do is how the game`s playedI try to follow rules and mama Kool-AidThen again I`m lookin up for the steep hillMy people first, and need a nother refillAnd brothers on the search for the good jobTired of bein labelled as an old slobBut never does he find what he look fo`A lotta jobs for the rich and none for the po`That`s why I`m dippin low with a loose screwAnd when it comes to this it ain`t shit newReal to the say and tell it all straightNever trippin off the fools that wanna raise hate

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