557 3 часа назад

Текст песни South Central Cartel - No Get Bacc

South Central Cartel - No Get Bacc слова песни

[ VERSE 1: Young Prod ]If any crew wanna mad-dog, if you look it`s onI got this .44 chrome spittin at your domeComin from the shoulders, droppin muthafuckas like bouldersRollin with my chip MotorolaBlazer all fucked but I ain`t walkinHead feelin light cause my stomach startin to talkinAs I roll by hoes yellin out: "Star!"But I yell back: "Bitch, look at the car!"You seen me in a video, don`t think that I hustleStressin so bad, make me wanna jack RussellI dropped outta high school askin where the money at`Man, it`s in the rap game` - now it ain`t no get back`Homie fuck that, where y`all from, loc, you bangin?I thought the Cartel were some 87 gangsters`Look homie, I`m a player and I ain`t got timeTwo steps back, buck you dead in your eye, eye, eye...[ CHORUS: Young Prod ]If you trip off your mouth and my strap`s in my lapIt ain`t no get-back, prepare for your casketNutshell Nazi, the S.C.C.Persist to get pissed on, get yo buster ass on[ VERSE 2: Prode`je ]Should I bomb? Yo, let`s commence to kill aPussy-ass niggas talkin bout they pullin triggersWe got the back streets sowed upLive on luck will leave your ass fucked, nigga, hold upYou pickanannies be talkin plenty bullshitBut you ain`t shit when it`s time to get withReal niggas from the S.C.I peel your cap offNigga, now turn that muthafuckin rap off5`8" with a big stickMuthafuckas try to run but I`m comin at that ass quickI`m so bad I kick my own assYou disrespect me and I be gettin wreck just like a plane crashDash, I have your ass burnin like some hashAsh, you see a mash, then you hear the blastAsk the Prod what that be likeI tell you gangster, now you know it`s all to the g right[ CHORUS ][ VERSE 3: Havikk the Rhime Son ]It`s ninety-muthafuckin-six, gees finna ride and slideCartel Gang down to hoo-bang in a fiveNiggas gettin twisted but I don`t give a fuck about a busterCartel till I die, muthafuckaA nigga dressed thuggish, postin with the heaterDecapitate yo dome with this nine millimeter`draulics on amp, the ass is on callHit the second switch, bitch, post my d`s on the wallChuck T`s posted on the curb`yac in my palm and I`m chokin off that herbI swerve back to the 9 block, pager goin wickedCheck my phone book for a bitch who wanna kick itDiarrhea-at-the-mouth muthafuckas better ease upS.C.G.`s regulatin fools g`s upRhime Son, nigga, on deck puttin it down for the set, locMobbin murder deep with my kinfolk[ CHORUS (repeated till end) ]

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