exibições de letras 36

Get Retarded

DJ Kayslay

Letra

    [Jim Jones]
    Uhh, okay, y'all know what this is
    Jim Capo nigga, we back on this motherfucker
    Drama King, drama game, bird caine
    DipSet, Diplomat - y'all know what it is
    Exclusive nigga, for the streets
    Harlem, stand up, Eastside representers
    You know what it is, check it

    Passed my hood throwin weed out the window
    Half my hood they be out the window
    Tell KaySlay throw the key out the window
    I parked in front so I can see out the window
    Get inside of the ride, 20 inches piped in the side
    So I cypher some eyes, hell yeah like bikers we ride
    Better yet like pilots we fly
    Trust me you be flyin all high
    like a bunch of birds and we dump the birds
    And we bump the birds but "mums" the word
    Word, word - man bird gang
    I thought you heard mayne
    But hold on holmes, I be rollin stones
    Rocked up like a rollin stone
    Blocked up and I hold the chrome
    Pop up I will blow up homes, DipSet, he know it's on
    Yeah, it ain't even fair
    I'll squeeze a flare, I'll leave him there
    Just bleedin there, no breathin air
    Just leave him there 'til police get there
    Whoo! That's my kind of work
    Fucked up buletproof liner shirt
    Then we grind the work, all kind of work
    We watch po-po, they tryin alerts
    Fuck that dough, they dyin of thirst
    Huh, so we cop it and fry it
    Chop and divide it, toppers supply it
    Yeah - hit the block and he try it
    Yeah - watch the cops when they eye us
    Yeah - you know our block starts riots

    [Chorus 2X: Jim Jones, Juelz Santana]
    If it's drama we can start it
    Start the drama, get retarded
    Grab the llama, load the cartridge
    Turn yo' ass into a target

    If it's drama we gon' start it
    If it's problems we gon' solve it
    Big revolvers, you the target
    Load the hammers, load the cartridge

    [Juelz Santana]
    I pop hoes and greet ya, nachoes and cheese ya
    Send vatos, choppos and gablones to meet ya
    They pop yo' top slow, pa blow and leave ya
    I got dough, papo or chop low flaminga
    I got hoes, papo that lock load the finger
    So all the broads now all across town
    All aboard now, let's all get all down
    Yeah, on the floor now, lower your drawer down
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah - I know you thir-STY!
    I'm a gorilla case, Harlem's my villa place
    Nigga what, nigga wait - get it what, get it straight
    Nigga, get it fucked, get the eight
    Get it up, in your face
    Yeah, nigga what, nigga HEY!
    That's how my peeps roll, that's how the streets go
    That's street code, G roll, we KNOW!
    Man, the boy gets busy, that's for sure fo' sheezy
    The boy the busiest, all the rizzy of RAP!

    [Chorus]

    [Twista]
    I gotta cock and load, finna pop these hoes
    Kill a motherfucker let the glocks explode
    Come up on a corner servin rocks and blows
    Get the millimeter gotta rock and roll
    Gotta hit him with the heaters in the heart
    and I hurt him with the hollows every time I heard he come around here
    If you don't want the drama get up off the tip
    I'll be the only motherfucker servin dubs and the pounds here
    It ain't shit for me to throw them thangs
    If a nigga try to go inside, I come breakin him off
    Catch you slippin with the shiny rings
    And ain't no need for you to get dramatic on takin 'em off
    Catch him open when I'm kickin in the do'
    Shoot up on the ceiling then I get him on the flo'
    Take yo' cash, take yo' dro
    Mac-11 rugers and a forty-fo'
    Get your killers, you better go get your gangstas
    Better go get your hustlers, better go get your riders
    Better go get your - motherfuckers that'll handle that biz
    Kill a nigga even if they gotta do a bid
    Dress up like chicken when I pull you with a wig
    Take away your mothers and they kidnapped kids
    Shoot at us then it's tit for tat
    We the niggaz that be known to hit a lick for scratch
    Makin money puttin workers on the tit with packs
    Don't want no drama with the honorary Diplomat
    I got a - Desert Eagle and a pocket full of shells
    Opposition hangin on a tip, make confetti galore
    Thinkin I'ma let they pockets swell
    It's murder when I'm fillin up the clip and I'm ready for war
    Goin through bodies and drillin the wall
    Dead 'em so quick then you be feelin the fall
    I'm makin sure that my enemy blood's fillin the halls
    When the Twista got static, I'll be killin them all
    Cause that's drama mayne..

    [Chorus]

    Composição: Calvin Mitchell / Joseph Jones / LaRon James. Essa informação está errada? Nos avise.



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