Текст песни Tommy Gibbs f Lord Tariq - QBX (Scared to Speak)
Tommy Gibbs f Lord Tariq - QBX (Scared to Speak) слова песни
{Tommy Gibbs}Times be desperate, spit ya best shitIn this business, on some life or deathI`ve been high in these streets, cried in these streetsWilling, but I`m trying not to die on these streetsGot my mind on my stack, vibe on a trackHang with them cats that twist niggas backGibbs moves state to state, cakin a stashI sware, trying to watch them there, don`t wanna crashDestination far, got killas in the carMinute we touch down, niggas know who we areBubble in the spot, till it get too hotAnd then we blowin that one horse town back on the blockIn the mix, my click stay back to backWe gon` the metal clap, till the shit jump backGuarantee to get wet, when my bronze connectMake moves when it`s on, straight bomb ya setChorus 2x: BothGibbs and TariqGot ya scared to speakCuz when it pop, ya might not dropBut you gon leakReady to die, two of the best from NYNiggas feelin theyselves, it`s welcome to try{Lord Tariq}The name of the father, son, holy ghost and spiritIf it`s rhymes, I`mma spit it, Dutch, I`mma split itCash we gonna get it, Coke money to credit, we do it to debt itThese rules and bet it, Loan to Tommy Gibbs, by any means get creamNigga mob we is, BX to QueensGive a fuck about the set you screen, the set you reamCuz when I wave this motherfuckin tech you leanLogic, we in it for the prophetWon`t stop less the barricade, the white stone and cars litHot shit, we spit, got shit to getDoin are own thing, 90 in a slow laneSmoke the cocaine, trying to own thingsIn a Jag, bumpin Cuban, you own grown thingsTwo of the illest niggas, ain`t shit gon` changeFor this paper, I split ya brains, so get your thingsChorus 2X{Tommy Gibbs}Bet it all on we, watch us push red line on these niggasBring the whole squad, go hard on these niggasAin`t thinkin bout the law, just walk up to they doorBeat them to the jaw, heat them to the floorStop till they drill and they wrists is lockedFunny how they ain`t go no more shit to popMake it hot for the paper, you drop for the paperRun up in your spot, twin glocks for the paper{Lord Tariq}Drug caper in the rap game, quick to pull a swamiMet up with my O.Y.G. niggas in MiamiDie for the cause together nigga we familyThey can`t stand me, thugs up for a GrammyFeds wanna snatch me, they caught works and scripturesThink I don`t see them in the club takin picturesCall the phone, hang up, times they say "We gonna get ya"If the studios bugged, with all respectGet off my dick sonChorus 2X