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Текст песни Wicked f Black Mas, Raekwon - Whatever

Wicked f Black Mas, Raekwon - Whatever слова песни

[Intro: Raekwon (Black Mas)]Fightin` like a lost soul (word, they can`t fight)Herb raps, word up son (they can`t fight this)Knowhatimsayin? Gotta run through this at all timesYou hear me, (word up) right, yeah (so we understandin` this shit)Aight, word, knawhatimean? (bring that shit back)[Chorus: Raekwon]Whatever dunn, show `em, represent how you do yoursConnect four, major niggas, float, do toursIt`s like this, check out the marvelous cats who bust, only usRed Rums, slide through, dunn, what, who bumped it, what?[Wicked]Aiyo, it`s the L.O.`s and the Chef, cookin` up some marvelousServin` niggas whoever cuz they impatiently starve for thisApocalypse upon your clicks for tryin` to change overI write my rhymes top of line, like fuckin` Range RoversI aim cobras wit wind blowers, international flame throwersWipe out your whole territory, and leave your smell in strange odorsI bring folders, to the real hip hopSo try to front up on my click, and kid, you will get droppedI build this poppest disaster, crash your land flashI "flex" like Funk, then I "flash" like GrandmasterAsk you who the nicest, on mic devicesMy lyrical crisis`ll have you seein` "illusions" like CypressYou bite this, wanna write this, so I might justTeach you like them "teachers", that`s "poor" and "righteous"Sit you down and recite this, I like thisMy crew shinin` wit tight sips, ya`ll fools wantFrom a taste of Red Rum, wit a slight twist of Lou DiamondI rule rhymin`, ain`t no if, ands, about thatAsk niggas around the way, you can beat meThey be like, "nah, I doubt that"He`s dangerous, don`t try to follow, I`m sure to loose youI hit you wit tons and pounds of heavy shit like YokozunaGet you growin` tumor, for tryin` think about my fly shitAnd fuckin` wit this and you ain`t gotta be livin` the fast life to die quick[Chorus][Black Mas]Yo, clear the way and bring your crews, about to ship on to MichiganGot you twitchin` kid, official gear, got you bitchin` kidPay attention, kid, we get low down wit four down lyrical stylesGo down, wit more grounds, you tow down, we blow shitOh shit, flip, we control shit, we roll thickPlay me close, kid, get your dome splitWit chrome grips, collected thought, style of all sortsPlayin` niggas like sports, on courts, holdin` down fortNigga soft, takin` virginity from niggas daughtersYou be, B., I ain`t havin` it, like baseheads wit nine dollars and four quartersI`m bringin` drama to your grounds, keep it rugged rawBefore you battle me, go to Apollo and rub that fuckin` logI eight-six and knock your ass out the boxing ringsNigga, fuckin` up backs like beds wit no backspring[Chorus][Raekwon]What`s the cake? He tried to front of dope minkThis no name nigga wit game, straight outta SpainShell blowers, we cardiac arrest elbowersRock rovers, like hangin` above God shoulderYea, we gettin` ours, you flower head cats is cowardsWe buckin` birds like Adina HowardRich niggas allow it, you know it done right, blackBulletproof ski hats, Siamese, beings wit the dezackThe dice rollers, the Motorola glock holdersYo, hold this, six hundred Benz niggas for soldiersWe top notch, Rocky watch, blood son, guzzle spotsGlass spot, run in your bitch, smack your popsMack style to this, murder one style, shit`s miraculousHalf of this, I`m hittin` at home wit Indianopolis[Chorus 2X]

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Wicked f Black Mas, Raekwon - Whatever
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