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    Текст песни Basket Case - Connections (Ny2mtl)

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    Слова песни:
    [Mr. Q]
    Yeah, yeah. Check it out. Yo, yo, yo
    [CHORUS: Mr. Q]
    It's the connection
    It's the connection
    It's the connection
    It's the connect son
    It's the connection
    It's the connection
    It's the connection
    It's the connect son

    Mr. Q and Mikey Styles, shit is live
    Yeah, yeah, yo

    [Verse 1: Mr. Q]
    So watch the story of a young thug
    Niggas is busting
    Niggas is trying to get they hand on our cheddar, but whatever
    Part of my mission, is to reach my destinatino
    Son, you with me? Aight, then let's make it happen
    Yo with this rap shit, I'm in it
    I worry y'all niggas stick it and bring it
    A lot of niggas talk about the next nigga
    Is kyou real or are you faking jacks?
    Y'all niggas ain't live
    The whole way niggas is standing in the pair of fly ties
    Niggas bringing the drama
    My niggas Deeper than the Mobb
    Bring the shit like you want it
    You can't bust me
    I'm like the holy son, the son of Jehovah
    ??? niggas puch your Range Rover
    Put y'all to sleep
    You try to creep after seeing niggas freed you
    I'll leave you with a death wish
    Your peoples miss you thinking you're alive
    My niggas kick your ass for a ride
    Now you gone, dead
    These niggas took your head
    Instead of fucking with us you better get with us
    And be the last nigga thinking that you got through
    And defeat you, you feel offended, then money bring it
    I take no shorts, I leave you niggas on a crusty cross
    While your priest bother calling
    Has a sly trade of where my crew is from
    The heart of Bushwick
    I bring it back to Allah
    'Cause niggas make you cry if you front on some bullshit
    But still you fronted
    Now you bump heads with real niggas
    You don't want it
    But yo, you got disrespected
    Hit you on the spot, must respect it
    You got rejected
    That's what you get when you fuck with rap
    With the real niggas
    Nigga you get his cap peeled, shit is real son
    Yeah, yeah, yo, yo
    Thug bust a slug
    Niggas don't give a fuck son
    If ya want it, then you bring it
    Yo, yo
    Thug bust a slug
    Niggas don't give a fuck son
    If ya want it, then you bring it

    [Verse 2: Mikey Styles]
    Welcome, on the East side of things
    We 'bout the dookie links, diamond rings and things
    Head come around, try throw foul swings
    Back stabbing enemies, claim defending
    Never shake hands with a crooked wanna be
    Only real niggas feel the true energy
    So feel the vibe nigga
    Hit ya kind of red
    Represent yours, time to make this shit shine
    'Cause rappers that be looking from the side
    Then they go and party to heads that's always live
    Ain't fakers whose be down with us, because we bust
    Criticize the rappers have had enough of what we say
    Mad love to niggas who live what we say
    East, West, North, South niggas all day
    We gonna bust your ear drums
    Call you dun, son
    You know how we do

    [CHORUS]
    [Mr. Q] Mr. Q and Mikey Styles, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Yo, yo young thug busting slugs
    Niggas don't give a fuck
    If ya want it son then bring it
    Young thug busting slugs
    Niggas don't give a fuck
    If ya want it, then you bring it
    [Mikey Styles]
    Yo, yo
    Let's take it to the streetside, the real side
    So don't move an inch, don't even flinch
    Just grab you bag of money
    Now it's time you represent
    Ain't nothing changed, the crew is stilll snatching ends
    I'm chilling, sipping Shon Dom's(sp?)
    You know how we do
    I get my buzz on
    [Mr. Q]
    It's the connect son
    It's the connect son
    It's the connect son
    It's the connects
    It's the connection
    It's the connect son
    It's the connect son
    It's the connect son
    Niggas know better not to run this nigga Q
    My shit, is lyrical when I drop it on
    This shit is ludicris, I plant them in tears
    So a lot of niggas out there don't like my style dun
    Fuck a man, I'm going underground
    So listen to my sound
    Word is bond son, niggas is dumb
    Pass me the gun, fuck ya beef and ya speech
    Come clean in every scene
    Try to make it on my own
    Dukes throw up, they say she try to lose me
    I got crazy drama
    Can count on my mama
    I'm going insane, got fucking hoes in my brain
    Trying to maintain, buy yo I still a fucking mess
    I'm stressed, now I'm smoking cease
    Reality got my mind, you know what I'm saying
    It's the connection
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