Tytuł: Bring it on

• Wykonawca: Terror Squad
• Wyświetleń: 373

(Fat Joe speaking)
   Yea yea, what
   uh, Terror Squad
   uh, from the streets to the jail cell
   I mean, my niggaz is facin death penalties and all that
   Charlie Rock el D
   Yea yea, this go out to you my nigga
   Yo, yo
  
   Verse 1:
  
   Aint no solution for this
   Since day one I been true to this shit
   Often niggaz try to shoot but they miss
   I been provin to hit so you know its really real
   I went from chillin on the hills to signin deals worth fitty (fifty) mil
   Self made millionaire status
   We all gettin money but its funny how mine makes niggaz maddest
   Come at us if you ready for war
   Whoever you are
   Leave you dead in your hall leakin red on the floor
   Better than ya'll
   Niggaz need to face the facts
   Since the days of crack I been blazin gats - tryin to raise my stats
   Tracin back - you could find me at a racin track
   Laced in black - bettin on a horse called Amazin Jack
   Joey Crack's the illest - fully backed my killaz
   Hoppin outta 18 wheelas - like mad gorillas
   Niggaz need to calm they nerves when I'm concerned
   Cause if you didn't know by now - you all gone learn
  
   Chorus:
   I ain't know you really want it
   How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin
   Dont want no people wantin to play my game
   And if you really want the problems nigga say my name
   Bring it on, come on
  
   I ain't know you really want it
   How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin
   Dont want no people wantin to play my game
   And if you really want the problems nigga say my name
   Bring it on, come on
  
   Verse 2:
  
   I puts it down with Pun
   Now all I do is lounge in the sun
   Look what I done from the slums - to sportin 5 thousand and ones
   See the ice glitter - i only walk with them nice niggaz
   Sheist niggaz that quit it for doin life niggaz
   You had a judge - we came through in the clutch
   Fifty fifth- aint no what to do when I came through wit'cha
   The Don Polly - you could find me as fresh as Denali
   In times probably even marching at a Shaufton (?) rally
   I often carry thats the price of fame
   Got precise the fame snipe u with the rifle and unlight your brain
   It aint a game - its real niggaz with real guns
   That still run - caught a box- and pump ox by the millions
   Before the children thats confusin life
   The voodoo type that'll pull out the UZ (uzi) and make you lose your life
   The news is tight - I got em hangin by the neck
   Man you tanglin with vets when you bangin with TS (what, WHAT THE FUCK!)