Текст песни Twista f Freeway, Memphis Bleek, Young C - Art & Life
Twista f Freeway, Memphis Bleek, Young C - Art & Life слова песни
[Intro: Young Chris]Yeah..Young Chris, M-eez, my nigga Free-WheezThe boy TwistaHollaMy life on the track (Okay)Up and comin`State Prop Chain gang (That`s right)Get low (Get low)It`s the Roc in the building nigga(Holla...Yeah)It`s the motherfuckin` Roc bitch, who hotter than us?(Okay, okay)[Young Chris]Ayo..ever since a young buck, I been on the come upKnown to dish the raw, dish the law if they come upAnd cheddar `till the sun up..If there`s a ransom and the law get involved, then we never get it summed upNever put ya gun up, if ya come round meI go to war wit` niggaz `round the corner from `round meYou could front `round me, but I read through thatWit` the mili` and I ain`t talkin` `bout no Segal macNiggaz see shoot back, we can see to thatHit yo front letters see through back, bring yo peoples backAnd I used to grind out on my friend`s spot`til he`s mom wanted my Tim-botsNow my paint got me discountsOr trans-quo all around the world, like I was signed to Pimp-dotAnd if it`s ten targets and I got ten shotsI`m tryin` to leave at least nine out of them ten shot..[Memphis Bleek]I got my mind on my money, money on mindBut some say its a gift, I don`t write but I rhymeI, complete songs with just one tryTell `em it`s no lie, I beef all my life...doggI never think, it`s already thereI find ways to say it, so you motherfuckers hear itAnd when you hear it you feel it, you know its real soThis is how I live it, how it`s pictured for real...niggaI`m shittin` for realDiamonds against wood, underground king for realBig crib when I lay, yeah I`m livin` for realTrust me the guns come off the shelf whenever shit`ll get realAutomatics and extended clips, that`s what I`m hittin` wit`Dummies in the black rhinoesYeah, they be killin` shitMasked up kidnap shit, that`s how my niggaz getChi-town, NYC, that`s how my niggaz get..[Freeway]Yes, just picture me rollin`The smith and wesson`ll stay goin` put a hole in yo chestIt`s just, another hustle paper gettin` made and foldGet mad, you street niggaz finally made itI swoop five, he know the ride, heavily loadedDeliver pies like cake, they go straight through yo payment...yup!Chump...you don`t really wanna warWith the State Prop clique, if ya clique shot us, squad upS-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya`ll can`t hangTransporter turned rapper, get a camcorder film my lifeStill acclompished, tryin` to fill they cupsThe rap version of Mandela, call my bluffWe still the street dwellers, feel my pain (my pain)I spit a verse and split a clip in the rainA fool-proof when the full force open you up (what!)[Twista]Twista will rock you, you don`t want the thug apostle to pop youHostile when I drop you, turnin` everything colossal to fossilesI speak street gospel, all they life I spit words and paint portraitsFor real niggaz that hold down they fortress and serve off of porchesHit `em in the body wit` the powerful forces, that`ll end all your doubtMake you clean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance floor and bounceWe blessed wit` the talent, fuck wit this clique, it ain`t gon` be easy`Cause you fuckin` wit` Twist if you fuck wit Chris, Bleek and Free-wheezySo speak and breath easy... Or the scutches my future in 3DI like wars, I`m from a city full of Vice Lords, and GD`sBreeds and Souls, 2-6`s, Kings, BD`s and StonesSpanish cobras and all the true soldiers, survive and I`m gone!Watch me spit if for the killers and hustler`s, flippin` all the pounds and bricksHate on me I`ma bust at you hoes, and I put eleven down wit` a clipNiggaz servin` fiftys and hundreds, when I see you and I`m on yo tipTwista and this East-Coast regime, it`s that chi-roc shit