Текст песни South Park Mexican f Baby Beesh, Ike Man - City of Dank
South Park Mexican f Baby Beesh, Ike Man - City of Dank слова песни
(Baby Beesh)It`s your boy, Baby beesherelli mane,La Velvet clika,Representin` that yay area dogg,Down South mane, Houston, Texas mane, with my smokin` cousin(SPM)Mister S-P baby(Baby Beesh)S-P-M baby boy, South Park Mexican,With my nephew, young Happy P,Man on the track, one love,(SPM)One time for that Ikie(Baby Beesh)Ikeman my boy, representin` that 7-1-3 clique mane,Houston, Texas mane,We fixin` to show you how we get down mane, check it outChorus (Baby Beesh & Ikeman):(Baby Beesh)Where I come from, the city of dank,Where niggas shoot hop, snort, and smoke crank,Where anything`s possible and nothin` fa sho,High off Khadafi mixed with blow(Ikeman)Well I come from, the city of drank,Where niggas drop tar, ride and drip paint,Grip the grain, switch the lane,Swingin` on them thangs,Got the trunk with the bang cuz the South on there stayin`First Verse (Baby Beesh):Some of you G`s can`t help it,We love our money green like the Boston Celtics,They felt it cuz every saucy Chicano`s down with Latino Velvet,Don`t get it twisted, we got some more in case you missed it,Straight from the Buh-ay, where them niggas keep it playeristic,Now every hour, a coward is devoured,Some perkin`, off the powder, some slangin` go mental flowers,Smokin` cavys in the Navi, or the four door fleetwood caddy,Geekin`, while we tweekin` or smellin` the puporalli,Valley jokers what we ran with,And them haters just can`t stand it,They frantic cuz us hispanics,Gigantic like the Titanic nigga,Seven seas, I`m tryin` to cop seven keys,All folks with the 2-0-9`s got whole ones for eleven G`s,So I ain`t passin` Baby Beesh all about that scrilla scratchin`,Hooked up with the Ikeman now we robbin` in Guerilla fashion,Eighteen with a bullet, we bumpin` totally insane,I`d like to praise the Mac God for showin` me the gameChorusSecond Verse (Ike Man):Off the top, all us realas double R we goin` hard,Down South we hit the bar, smokin` `dro up in the guards,Foreign car we send low, bout my fetty and the dough,For those that don`t know it`s three and a quarter for the bow,Lime green lil` apartment, kind that make you wanna rhyme,But oh, dollar shine, it takes time to make `em blind,I`m on the grind to go and get,I got my gangsta ready to spit,I-K-E about my digits,Feds want me cuz I did it,I done flipped it into green, with my cousin` lil` beam,We be hoggin` up the scene with our mugs on mean,7-1-3, we coldest, from the jump they can`t hold us,Got the bricks, got the boulders, let the World know it`s over,I-K-E and S-P-M, and that Mexican Baby Beesh,Down to make major cash from the bay to seven one tre,That`s how we do it like some G`s,Makin` money from these ki`s,Every block we touch bleeds,About to put this game on freezeChorusThird Verse (SPM):Cognac sipper, born to crack flipper,Jugglin` hoes like my boy Jack Tripper,Glass slippers, on my smoke ray Lac,I was broke way back, walkin` down a train track,Mary Jane sacks gave my ass a brain lapse,Insane raps ridin` with strange cats,Plain gats, nothin` special but do the job,Rollin` `round tryin` to find someone new to rob,A lot of what you smoke, a lot of what you snort,Playin` crack bars seemed to be my favorite sport,My only dance floor was the hot corner store,Beat `em down, hol` `em up, that boy don`t want `em no more,Chest cracker, neck snapper, don`t make the Mex act a,Muthafuckin` fool on the best actor,Lead blaster, I hope it hits you where it has to,It`s the S-P-M sippin` syrup mixed with ShastaChorus