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Текст песни The Outfit (Baby Jay, Lickel Reg, Chedda - Die 3

The Outfit (Baby Jay, Lickel Reg, Chedda - Die 3 слова песни

Buncha pussies! .. Straight pussies!I know what you thought..Die 3, Die 3 - you fuckin with me, Die 3Die 3, Die 3 - you fuckin with me, Die 3Yeah Die 3, Die 3 - when you fuckin with me, Die 3Ya ya, ya ya, ya ya..(Pussies! You know what I`m talkin about?)(Those two bitches I fucked with, you feel me?)Yo, yo(Really, reality - they ain`t feminine, you feel me?)(Uhhhhh, I don`t know what the fuck.. I ought to even tell y`all about them faggots man)Fuck it, tell `em[Verse One]I don`t know how to begin to tell yahow we had provolone cheese, muenster, swiss, mozzarellaBad light skinned bitches, call `em Old YellerSnitch to your girl, bitches call `em hoe-tellersTrust me, any nigga talk about us don`t know betterNever heard them tales how we throw them shellsAnd how we never seen again after we post our bailNeed twenty million nigga just to close my dealYou know why? I think big, Alpha motto gotta think kidGet dough until it`s leakin like Cheese WhizBeef be the salsa, murder somethin gotta doEven if it haunts yaCats attack nice guys, scared of the monstersAlpha nigga ride with it, side with it, or die by itBitch[Chorus]Die 3, Die 3 Die 3 Die 3Why you fuckin with me?Die 3, Die 3 Die 3 Die 3Why you fuckin with me?Die 3, Die 3 Die 3 Die 3Why you fuckin with me?Die 3, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya(Chedda Boy, take it man)[Verse Two: Chedda Boy]Uhh, nine times out of ten I lay back and watch the world spinI hit it first now I`m gettin at her girlfriendThat`s the Chedda Boy for ya, look black?But the crib filled with Goya, Sassoon and AdoboYou don`t know we put six on doorsDick to whores, talk slick I click the fourSpit for all my bad, and straight to plate grindersShoot craps with old timers, and beg for knowledgeLet it soak in, Chedda Boy done focusinI know you noticed when, I used to hustle recordsNow I hustle the wheel, of a big LexusI`m the thing in the hood, these bitches wanna sex thisYoung, well connected, Outfit riderNever switch side up, until the crossroad divide usWe gon` hold it down cousin, and the hood is buzzinChedda Boy this, and Chedda Boy thatAnd I`m glad it ain`t crack[Chorus][Verse Three: Crisis]Like Khalid Muhammad, the O-U-T heed the dramaIf a nigga want me, he gon` see dalima(?)Crisis, the heater palmer, I rolls a bead upon yaKidnap your morticianist before he enbalm yaBetter be thankful that you got me to warn yaYou gon` need some armor, plus weed to calm yaThe painkillers we the game`s realest G`s with honorStrike like a Giaconna while you scream for mommaThe theme of horror, we livin in dividend chasinRacin, we impatientFirst off, this is for guns that burst offAnd when (?) throws, leavin they foes the worse offYou be lucky if I let you get a verse offYour raps is weak, your gats don`t leak, nigga you`re softAnd second, I`m reppin with a automatic weaponShit get more dramatic when we step in, the army{*violin music gradually fades out*}

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