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Текст песни Timbaland And Magoo - Indian Carpet

Timbaland And Magoo - Indian Carpet слова песни




[Timbaland]Yo (yo), yo, ay yoTimabaland`s flow infamousAllow me to assemble this flow with limitless styleFor all man, woman and innocent childI have no perimeterBreak all barriers in various areasMy sound is mimickedTrack prime minister, some say sinisterNone stoppin the groove until when it`sThe climax, some niggas is bitin my hot hatsAnd followed my drum pattern, but I done thatIt`s time to change, get more derangedFeels more strange (doooodooooo)Follow me through gravel and shallow treesFrom mountains to flat plain, to thunder and black rainThrough the dream state of utopiaWoke up to the sounds of that man TimbalandFive Mexican bitches scopin usBelly dancin, sayin "hell, he`s handsome" in SpanishWe was fine until the subtitles vanishedThen and open fire, totin opiumHigher than I ever been in my lifeHeard cries throughout the night like[Chorus: Static]Let`s get `em startedWhile they dance on, Indian CarpetC`mon, uhNiggas act retardedWhile they dance on, Indian CarpetC`mon, uhLet`s get `em startedWhile they dance on, Indian Carpet[Timbaland]Ay yo, I woke up to a bowl of rice like the Golden ChildT.V. playin like the Poltergeist, must been on overnightI saw a strong beam of light, decided to walk to itCould it be the son of Christ, I decided to talk to itIn the halls I heard music shoutin beautiful callsAnd I swore I heard a voice say:It`s yours my, gift to you, to do what you chooseBut I suggest you do what you do to make the spirits moveI hear ya dude, and me bein a barrel of fruitBut your ears heavenly, when I sit in this chair and produceThen my hallway darkenedI felt a power surge rush throughout my apartmentAnd the glance callin like[Chorus][Magoo]Mag spit with a sense of purpose on purposeWhen you was eatin collard greens I was eatin these dreamsI stepped in dog shit and bit Skid Row twiceOnly ice I had put it in my orange SliceWhat you know about livin in a jail when it ain`t no barsHandcuffed with no key, world denyin your pleaA third-degree charge when it ain`t no crimeTwenty-six years old and I got more timePhone overdue, baby on the way, low payLow rent for your mom, gotta get awaySmoke, hate now, then you wanna talk about the ghettoI`m tenth generation of that, came out the womb with a hatPolo on and Nikes with a gold toothI`m Superman, I can spit from any phone boothYou and your cold ass crew do what you doJust remember Mag never feel good, I am the flu[Chorus]

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