Shabazz The Disciple

Organized Rime Pt. 2 (Lyrical Key)

  hip-hop  wu-tang  rap  hip hop  wu-fam
361 3 часа назад

Текст песни Shabazz The Disciple - Organized Rime Pt. 2 (Lyrical Key)

Shabazz The Disciple - Organized Rime Pt. 2 (Lyrical Key) слова песни

[Chorus - repeat 2x]Yo god, I`m tryin to stack and get a castleCook lyrical keys in the labBag `em on two inch plates, DATs tooOrganized rime, time is moneyHustle nickels of vinylCassettes are dimes and a CD`s a twenty[Verse 1]Yo, I used to roll with thugs who sold drugsand put slugs in dealers who turned squealersThe cap pealers *gun shot* high rollers, big money wheelersNiggaz who`ll spank a nigga infront of his moms without feelingsThe transporters, importers and exportersPuttin hits out on P.O`s, judges and seargents and news reportersMost of the gods I used to do crimes withended up in Sing Sing infirmary, gettin their asshole stitchedWifey with a switch, your godfather turned snitchThey up north, while we out in New York, tryin to get richI worked my way up from grinding and measuringCredit card skeems and crimes and embezzlingI kept climbin Sugar Hill to get the treasures andStrivin for diamonds and a million dead presidentsSome left murder weapons, fingerprints and evidenceGot hit with 25, the feds sabotaged their residence[Chorus][Verse 2]Scramblin to get the cream, kept the rap dreamLivin on two planes of reality, caught in betweenWanted the best of both worlds, chasin materialSnake niggaz play the priest, throwin the dirt at my burialMy world consisted of sex, lust, money and L`sNow I get lifted off Exodus, 20 and 12My role models were the brothers on the corner who sold bottlesOut on parole, the mind and soul of AristotleRed Hook was like a mafia flickNever got to cop me a brickWe used to plot to stick Poppi and shitSittin pretty in a white land, my man had the right planFlights to get his head right in white sandsSippin cristal, pimpin a pistolTill his ass got shipped up to FishcaleHe used to cop two bricks, watch his chips pileNow he sits in a cell, prayin for a mistrial[Chorus][Verse 3]When DEA rushed the crib, we flushed an ounce on themHandcuffed in the hall and we still tried to bounce on themHit rock bottom, then we catch another loan sharkScale our rocks, to get a eight ball hit the pawn shopStreet dreams weighin a cake on a triple beamHeat skeems, playin for papes, my team crippled feinsInvestin money into street stocksMy peeps used to keep glocksSlap you up and give you speed knotsIn the diamond district yankin ice chainsThe gods used to heist trainsThen late at night stick the dice gamesFive bombs of Lah and Rock up in the mailboxC.O`s had niggaz sell rocks from their cell blocksMost of the gods got bagged and got indictedSome had open cases out of state and they got extradictedSome tried to fight it, blew trial on their appealGot uncorrect bails, for smugglin guns and direct sales[Chorus][DJ cuts Nas sample while Bazz ad-libs]"Somehow the rap game reminds me of the crack game"

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