The Beatnuts

Slam Pitfeat. Cuban Link and Common

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404 3 часа назад

Текст песни The Beatnuts - Slam Pitfeat. Cuban Link and Common

The Beatnuts - Slam Pitfeat. Cuban Link and Common слова песни




[Cuban Link]"I`m hard to kill, for real, nigga guard your grill" --> Cuban LinkYo, yo, Yo flipmode is how this nigga rollFinger on the trigger low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of goldLock and load, my heavy metal rock and rollsIf you gotta go you gotta go, that`s part of the showMy heart is cold like a Nautica nailin niggaz like carpentersStalkin the hardest squadrons, spark em from New York to ArkansasWatchin the projects is how I got my logicEconomics is pickin pockets then we split the profitThe only shit I pop is what my glock spitWatch for the cops since we spark the chocolateCause the blocks are hotter than the fuckin tropicsIn topless bars, college girls with no brasMy whole squad got blow jobs smokin Godfather cigarsLive large like Scarface, parlayin to far placeNo car chasin, she`s watchin all the stars in spaceSafe and sound in my playground with my tre poundGot eighty rounds just in case clowns wanna play aroundI lay it down for them non-believersThem non-achievin niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat usY`all better greet us if you ever see us (word up)TS, Beatnuts, double up, but grab your motherfuckin heatersSample interlude--Slammin MC`s on cement----The beats, the nuts----Got you froze like gun point--[JuJu]--It`s the hard-little pistol packin--It`s the control freak, leave you with a whole in your cheekWorst attitude in rap, Ju stay in the streetsI gotta eat, the only thing I`m playin is keepsYour beats cost a lotta money but they sound real cheapYou sound weak, anemic, like you get no sleepFuckin with me, you outta your mind? get outta your JeepYa know I`m gonna beat you till the police comeAnd tell niggaz who the fuck I got that Roly from[Psycho Les]--Psycho Les--Yeah, ugh, what...Jump out the Rover and let you know its overAnd grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a comaDrug you with my music son, you`ll never soberWhile your chicks on my --boing-- on a leather soaferChillin there, iced out billionaireIn war clothes blastin as I blast led through your Versace wardrobeWhat! Motherfuckers--Slammin MC`s on cement--Ugh[Common]--Common Sense, Common`s tellin ya--Picture a king, with heater, holy book, and big ringsReal nigga doin big things interpreting dreamsOff the Jim Bean, ain`t shit sweet for sixteensMy gods got the block sewn to the inseamI`m on the other side, trying to get greenSo I fash and trash that ass at least a dayWarrin with self I battle, the Middle Eastern wayBring heat like the months, that`s east of MayCasket in the road and saw a new school that knows the oldThis memory I hold the scroll, my flow is a Road...Less TraveledYou rock, but been through less gravelMy mystique suggest battle and what have youRip a nigga from New York to west coast, ChicagoDon`t give a fuck where he from he`ll get beat like a drumTill this rap goes numb, seekin the hot Medusa from circulationI strangle this string music, and suffocate a drumWanted to be a star till I seen I was the sun/songot my weight up like PunImprovise to get ass, emphasize to get passedFuck a mic check, I bring my flow in cashTalkin to fade

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