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Текст песни U-God f Desert Eagle, INF-Black, King Ju - Take it to the Top

U-God f Desert Eagle, INF-Black, King Ju - Take it to the Top слова песни

[Intro: U-God]Time to strongarm this shitThis how we gon` do, dead arm this man, knowhatimsayin?From the root to the fruit, twenty-one gun salute this shitUptown, Downtown, New York, down SouthL.A., that`s how we gon` do it, Hillside, nigga, all day[Desert Eagle]Meet me at the pop off, INF on the blockHillside, get your rocks off, take it to the topGot the whole world hatin`, can`t take me in the dropCan`t take it how I`m cakin` it, catch me in the spotAnd you might see a veteran stance, but you`ll never see a veteran danceBut you might catch me bangin` in the twatShe ain`t got G, she ain`t untangling my knotIn my baratone throw, here, bangin` out the boxClubs to cell blocks, here tangle with an oxGot gorillas in the mist, all my niggas arm with leadSo we gotta watch the killas on the stripYou already had a chance, try to kill us with a clipOne slug hit my lung, you could feel it when I spitI`m a Hillside Scrambler, the widest in the clickWatch Ugodz-Illa set fire to this shit[U-God]As the music gets louder at the top of the hourIt`s time to devour, cuz I`m hungry for powerI rise the towers, I`ll retire your mansAnd it never backfires when I devise a planI sprinkle money showers, I`m suppose to think bigAll you coward ass niggas don`t want me to liveUp the ladder of success, I won`t forgiveYa`ll tight ass niggas, ya`ll greedy ass pigs, niggaLast bids, better tie it, the CREAMI got here, hard work, plus dreams of steamI`m a mean machine, eat Lean CuisineSimilar to Steve McQueen on silver screenI`m suppose to redeem, see my Sprewells twirlI want a penthouse view, plus windows to the worldAnd, diamonds and pearls, and hardwood floorsAn Italian Job, catch a big money scoreAt the tip of the iceberg, top of the mountainNigga, sky`s the limit, when money I`m countin`I want water and waves sprayin` out my fountainNigga, I can it with him, or I can do without him, bitch[Chorus: all (INF-Black)]Take it to the top (we ball `til we fall, let the champagne pop, nigga)Take it to the top (every hood, every block, know we got this shit locked, nigga)Take it to the top (Uptown niggas, Downtown niggas, get it poppin`, baby)Take it to the top (Niggas get your front on, bitches get your stunt on, come on!)[INF-Black]It`s the silent mover, analyst, sharpshooterI parachute in your hood, ride off on a scooterSmookin` buddha with two nines, I`m still rockin` Puma`sHeard it first on grapevine, my rhymes ill manauversOn jake, we call `em one time, escape the street crimeDrapped in black hoodies, Timbs and gold shinesPoppin` that champagne, get high like jet linesGlide and break spines, make ya`ll respect mineI grind from nine to five, rely on the iron nineINF-Black, I`m doin` fine, so far from hittin` primeRippin` right through your flesh, these bitches they wantin` sexI take you to the top, and cut you off at the neckOh you the boss? You ain`t a threatWho cares of what you did, who cares of what you repI sidestep ya`ll faggots, leave your food in a messGot ladies that play it cool and keep the tool in they dressRide with me... Hillside, uh[Chorus][King Just]I`ve done started at the bottom, I deserve the tippyYa`ll niggas got some nerve to try to forget meMan, is he, or isn`t he, the greatest who done it?With sixteen bars that run concurrentWho wanna serve the warrant? Ya`ll ain`t got nothin` for himHow you gonna score points, on the after Mike JordanWon`t happen, stay scrappin`, I can see what you lackin`Hillside, rep Staten, see my wolves, still packin`I ain`t actin`, unless they sold out the box officeOr Spike Lee steps to me with better offersTune in, play it again, Q, fuck me? Fuck youThat`s how I`m supposed to doWe`ll go eye for eye, we`ll go tooth for toothWho the fuck wastes they money to put you in the booth?You ain`t the truth, you more like an L-I-ELet it be known, I meet you at the T-O-P, nigga[Letha Face]Enter the stage, I hell raiseWith the force of double barrel 12 gaugePump shotgun, dump hot onesFireballs flamin` out the mouth, lockin` your lungsLet me explain what the pain is aboutOscar the Grouch, out the trashcan, Dead Presidents styleTwin pounds in my hands, write my measurements down, clownI bang in the name of my son, exchange flames til I`m doneThe clip`s empty and I`m the remainding oneAnger from the Slums, soak up liquor with a sponge liverYour flow of blood is leakin` worse than a running riverSilver spines worse than Cabin FeverPlay the receiver, of a stabbing meat clever in your abdomenAll that from steppin` on my sneakerThe beat box jam, causes me to murder you with my intellectKill for respect, plus work hard for the powerThen I carve Loose Links inside the heart of a coward[Chorus]

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U-God f Desert Eagle, INF-Black, King Ju - Take it to the Top
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