 Hidden Darts, Vol. 3 » The lyrics [+ Bæta við +] |
|
1. _ Intro
|
|
2. _ Come On
|
|
3. _ Hidden Darts
|
|
4. _ Fire
|
|
5. _ 3 Bricks
|
|
6. _ Out the Way
|
|
7. _ Babies
|
|
8. _ Going Strong
|
|
9. _ Black Cream
|
|
10. _ Hot 97
|
|
11. _ Kilo
|
|
12. _ Struggle
|
|
13. _ Abduction
|
|
14. _ Pass the Mic
|
|
15. _ Missing Watch
Oh shit, fuck is my watch at? Shit man, fuck
Nah man, nah man, hell nah
These bitches is frontin'
The fuck the shit go?
Them drug gangstas
Yo son, you got my shit?
Nah, son, I ain't got ya shit
Son, you ain't got my shit?
Nah, nigga, I ain't got ya shit
Yo, son, my shit is gone
Pah listen, I ain't got ya shit
Lex you sure you ain't leave it in the
I started buggin' out, fell in the zone, half the bone lit
Passed off, rubbin' on my ski hat, oh shit
My blunt fell, my watch, you seen it?
Gleamin' little young fella, he just had the stupidest look, weeded
Yo, I'm tired and stressed, hungry and I'm vexed
And I'm flippin' 'cause these niggaz wanna play me for test
Shit fell off ya hand Lord? Stop it, I'm eyein niggaz in they faces
After that I'm goin' at niggaz pockets
The watch, faggot yeah, y'all niggaz got my shit
Yo Lex we family, I helped you cop yo' shit
Then help me find my shit
Eye-ballin' every fake Frankie Lymon in the joint
Break out, find my shit
Yeah, yo now I got robbed, I smell it
Mad bitches walkin' by the fella tryin' to crochet
Bitch spell it, listen trick, be out, bounce
Blew an ounce off of weed in the bitch face
She pulled out two white owls
Everybody back the fuck up, move
Chef, you actin' like a loose cannon
Pah, with you and your dudes
If my shit come up, cool
Matter of fact, clack, clack, clack, clack
Niggas pulled out tools
Yo, yo, yo, yo, turn the fuckin' lights off
Pass the illumin' Lord, tell the DJ yo, turn the fuckin' music off
We got announcements, we want y'all to listen clear
We just lost about mansion in here
And yo, eh yo, if we don't get it back it's gon' be a problem
Then my niggas gon' react and that'll be a problem
Eighty-five thou' gone we got a fuckin' problem
Ain't nobody leavin' alive until we find 'em
Excuse me, miss, no I ain't havin' it
I smacked him with the four pound, bitch hit the ground
Then I stepped off, dropped out the shit
Equipped with the dipped Courdouroy Bailey's with the cream stitch
Powerhouse biscuits that blow roofs off
Rae watch is missin', you take ya boots off and take off those chains
The fat fuck thought I was playin' so I started sprayin'
Chicks hit the floor, bottles broke
The owner slid through beefin', Duke threw the toast to his throat
We brought the noise like we here to promote
My man don't get his shit in four or five minutes
Yo we're leavin' with the vote
A gangsta's lotto, thirteen bodies and still climbin'
Big shotties, bodied when they sniff body
We did our thing too we got to the envy lobby
Our last four or five shots we see nobody
Yo, yo, yo, yo, turn the fuckin' lights off
Pass the illumin' Lord, tell the DJ yo, turn the fuckin' music off
We got announcements, we want y'all to listen clear
We just lost about mansion in here
And yo, eh yo, if we don't get it back it's gon' be a problem
Then my niggas gon' react and that'll be a problem
Eighty-five thou' gone we got a fuckin' problem
Ain't nobody leavin' alive until we find 'em
Eh yo, eh yo, shit got real that night
Power grabbed him, Vine smacked him dead in his head
(Oh shit, nigga he got a Magnum)
Yo we all holdin', rollin'
Grab a nigga, search him if he front, fuck it, blow him
Watchin' niggas foldin'
The bartender got a shotgun in his hand
Let off the wheelchair nigga got him and ran
Surround the don, full body armor automatically on
The faggots passed off the watch and gone
(Yo y'all niggas ain't searchin' shit)
Yo where the big mouth at? Niggas step up
Matter of fact nigga, line the fuck up
Nigga tried to swing on G's but he a gentleman
Son, he dropped the dead arm but failed to see it
Two shot G's pealed his meat
Let's see, niggas tried to front like my niggas is weak
Corey pulled the truck up, see-4ed this bitch, blew it the fuck up
Niggas'll use and niggas'll die in this mothafucka
|
|
16. _ Run 4 Cover
[Street Life]
Yo yo, enta, enta, enta, enta yo
It's the synical, lyrical rap individual
On my death bed I spit sick flows that's critical
I'm not a fan of this, I'm a mic vandalist
Thug therapist, my clan's too original
My slang bang to wax, words that's visual
Too digital for why'all common street criminals
Who want to come test, lick the sweat from my genitals
We can get off the mic and get a little physical
I was born to rock since they cut my umbilical
Cord, I swing swords, behold the prolifical
Rhyme writer, hip-hop provider, prize fighter
Live wire, quick to set the mic on fire
I speak legalized dope, hitman for hire
I quote murderous notes, dope rhyme supplier
Hang glide on the mic like a stunt driver
And I won't stop rockin till I retire
[Redman]
Yo yo yo
When it comes to the darts, I throw em
Flamethrower, blow your section-eight home to your payphone up
Grass smoker, in the cut for the lawnmower
I water, I ride the wale that ate Jonah
Over, your faced wit the black cape over
You woke up four gorillas wit a makeover
Packin a punch, asthma pump takeover
My crew boards, and the whole plane lays over
(YO YO!) You can't talk wit the tape over
Pass the pussy, get out, date's over
Back to your gray Nova that's way slower
Redline to five on the highway shoulder
Enemies say "Doc the one to play closer"
This baboon loose off the chain choker
Hardcore, ?jacore? I hate poker
But why'all spread when my bullet's daytona
[Chorus 8x]
Comin through, comin through duck
Run for cover (BASS!)
[Method Man]
Yo yo this ain't ya granddaddy music, it's hip hop
Comin through your woofer like a mute kit
Hundred-thousand watts on some bullshit
I blackout eclipse wit the semi bust a full clip (CLAP OUT!)
Touch one if any, that's my complexing conquest
Now tell that shit to the court, I plead no contest
From none of why'all, please
I potty train pissy-ass rugrat for free
Keep the cake for the family and off Sarah Lee
That's how we do, powerful, movin on ya left!
Mista who, Meth, black gorilla, beatin on his chest
I suggest, you pay yo' debt or Protect Ya Neck
I suggest, you wear a vest makin all them threats
Here's a chin check that cash and splash niggas in half
Smash rappers like hash (smoke em down to ashes)
At last it's the crew that party crashes the masses
Madness wildin out like special ed classes
[Ghostface Killah]
Straight out the gate, meet Tony
Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm
Been at nutcrunch last cinnamon toast wit power rose
Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE!
Peace shout he's Wallee Timb's, wild out (wild out)
We in the spot, guns go off though
Came out his mask it was Ollie North
Oh shit, what up what up Ghost
Congratulations on your new flick
Burn it dead who max the most
Word up you got the most Clarks
Bravehearts spin this
For under come down in the pale he need minutes
Told why'all before I kick doors off the hinges
Ain't no cooler and there ain't no Guinness
Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers
Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus
Statues of Mary, gas that bust mercury
Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey
[Redman]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, WHUUUA!!!
That's the way I like it
[Method Man]
PISSY ASS RUSTY ASS NIGGAS!!
(0-7-1-0-3) 1-0-3-0-4
|
|
17. _ Late Night Arrival
|
|
18. _ Cocaine Trafficking
|
|
19. _ Strawberries and Cream
|
|
|
|
Þessi plata hefur ekki vídeó. Þú getur bætt með því að smella á tengilinn hér að neðan.
[+ Bæta við vídeó +]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Íslenska 
