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Tytuł: Illside of town

  • Wykonawca: M.O.P.
  • Wy¶wietleń: 234

  
   HOOK 4X:
  In the Illside of Town where they...
  Murder niggas
  Get down for your crown
  Murder, murder motherfuckers
  
  [Billy Danze]
  Ayo, Handle UR Bizness now [you might not get the chance later]
  Some kinda way every day the passion for bustin your crater
  In the, "ghetto" where trigga fingers usually itchin
  Here is where I leave for war in the dump, like Richie Rich
  It gets a mind blowin situation [one occupation get left]
  New occupation still my niggas feel they facin death
  We're jumpin on decks, with the jumpers at the tire
  BLAU! bu- bu- bu- bu- bu- bu- bu- bucka, rapid fire
  Now, let the preacher preach
  There's a lesson that need to be taught, and look who I brought to teach
  I pack fifteen in my 45, pick up niggas wit size
  Whet up the wildest survive
  Wack crews will see M.O.P. is the livest
  Downtown Swingin, index finger exercisers
  CLAK, CLAK! [cut 'em some slack] fuck that, it's on
  I know you wanna live, I'd rather see you torn
  Out the frame, Bill and Lil Fame will still stand
  I'm thinkin of a master plan to lace your man
  What make you think that you can fuck with Billy Danze
  I'll 4-4 'em, flow 'em, blow 'em to show 'em
  That we don't give a fuck about that nigga we don't know 'wm in the
  [Illside of Town where they, murder niggas, I'm from the...]
  
  HOOK
  
  Take 'em down
  
  [Lil Fame]
  You know my face I'm from the place wit two pounds
  And trey pounds, and four pounds kill, for Brownsville
  You know my face I'm from the place wit two pounds
  And trey pounds, and four pounds kill, for Brownsville
  You got drug dealers, gun holders, street rollers
  Young bitches wit attitudes pushing baby strollers
  [Ghetto how] we dealin with these savages teh average is
  Deceased or in jail for splittin niggas cabbages
  The characters that's left still the same fellas
  They still slingin heavy metal, [aint nothing but the ghetto]
  But it's like that, aint that right black
  When my enemies strike, it's only right that I strike back
  Here in Crooklyn it's trife
  Criminals out to take everything from your jewels to your life
  One way to survive on these streets [you choose it]
  Rip up, load your clip up, slip up, and [you lose it]
  Cops roll up on you son, got bodies on your gun
  Caught up in some shit that your moms always warned you from
  See she won't understand that it's in the environment
  That's why these trigga happy niggas keep firing
  I aint just fall into no grave
  If I gotta get bodied, it gotta be goin out in a blaze
  I'm fazed, whether it's him or me goin down
  No matter the repercussions M.O.P. hold it down in the...
  
  HOOK