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Текст песни Straight Spittin'

  • Исполнитель:
  • Flipmode Squad
  • Название песни:
  • Straight Spittin'
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  • Всего текстов:
  • 15
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  • Слова песни Straight Spittin' (Song Lyrics)
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    Straight Spittin'
    Flipmode Squad
    _The_Imperial_
    
    
    I'll bust all you cats in the game for malpractice
    I'm in Jersey, where I'm paying no taxes
    I'll stick your girl, Agnus
    Flipmode bring the madness
    Platinum status, Rampage I'm the baddest
    Check the credit, yo you might as well dead it
    I said it, fuck the edit, it's uncut
    Nigga what, it's crunch time for me to shine
    I'm a show you easily for me to take mines
    Pass my nickel plated nine, call me Einstein
    Buck a shot two times and stick you for your rhyme
    Put you in a pine box
    You and your whole family's on detox
    Hustlin crack for Reeboks
    Holy socks, cut you with my ox
    Rampage got the city locked
    and your function, to the Flat Bush junction
    Causin rambunction, watch me do you somethin
    
    
    Baby Sham on some new shit
    New and exclusive
    5'3", Caramel, tight grip on a four fifth
    Leave em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul drift
    Nigga with the 6 story, throw em off the cliff
    As I speak the shit to put my name on the list
    The small thug with a slug put a mark on his wrist
    A tattoo of pyramids, puttin hollows in clips
    Peeped your gat, jammed tight, Ross your lookin to riff  (what the fuck?)
    QB's type shit, cause we runnin your clique
    See me in the drop, with your six, sayin she snitched
    But never that, cuz-o, high beam through the window             
    My lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast though
    Got a safe in your crib, sham, you know the code
    Search, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that's zero
    Took the c notes and flip mode left on the quietest note
    Swallowed these then cleared your throat
    Bitch ass, you should have spoke
    
    
    *GIMMIE AN F*
    Fuck the bullshit, fire my gun
    Fly a nigga head, fuck it for fun
    Fuck where you from
    *GIMMIE AN L*
    Layin on beaches, killin all leeches
    Love to break a liar face
    Pick up the pieces, yo
    *GIMMIE AN I*
    Intelligence eliminates all irrelavance
    Icon of immaculate rhyme common sense
    *GIMMIE A P*
    Powerful professional             
    Poppin my pistol
    Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls
    *GIMMIE AN M*
    Master of all missions
    Maker of decisions
    Head on collisions
    Massacre the meat rack, ask the women
    *GIMMIE AN O*
    Got niggas open, open heart surgery
    Rhyme so official, overthrow governments
    Shit is nursery
    *GIMMIE A D*
    Diggin my dick all inside your chick
    Dominate the heavyweight division
    Rhymin district
    *GIMMIE AN E*
    Everlasting slang
    Eternal ebonics
    Lyrical e-mail
    Stabalize livin in all my economics
    *SQUAD*             
    Group of men, women
    Unified force
    Squadron
    Movin like one in unison
    Beg your pardon
    
    
    What they call me
    A hundred on a Harley
    Out of nowhere, and keep you surfin like Brawley(sp?)
    Narley! I'm the bitch with the pistol
    Woody Woodpecker or L.L. at the Bristol
    Official stand, hold it down in Trent
    Then link up at the tunnel with the rest of my camp
    Paper like Meade, I'm in the mix like Speed
    And be screamin on the mic till my tonsils bleed
    Yeah that's the way it is
    Like when a kid get chirstened
    Like comin to the bricks to find your whip missin
    Rockin uptown, on down to west Howston
    Houston, peace to my bitches that's boostin            
    After juicin, I'm a straight black ball a rapper
    Tap a nigga's nerves like them hackers
    Be goin on the modem, I get the call from the dispatcher
    Then show them mother f'ers what I'm after
    
    
    Yo I back slap a wack mc for trying to be
    Something he not, pull his card, blow up his spot
    Nigga talkin bout murder but ain't committin one
    Niggas talkin bout gats but ain't bustin one
    Yo, I see you in the (?) portayin like you a thug
    Yea, your man got a gatt, but he ain't bustin no slug
    You
    You's a local black spokesman, I split your front open
    Viscious knife wound, fucked up like Ron Goldman
    Spliff, I spit, fully equipped for any bullshit
    Grew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit
    Ignorant, vulgar, on your taperecorder
    Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter
    Fatman son, wilted grandson, (?) nephew, Frank the cousin
    
    --MORE--(82\%)               
    *Uh huh, one more time, uh huh, Spliff, come on*
    Bust my gun, like Columbians
    Make niggas colapse like fucked up lungs
    
    
    Better obey the laws of the land
    Or lay still like soldiers of fortune in Nam
    Closed coffin with flags folded in half
    Triangular shape, blow out the candles with grace
    For fabulous tastes, some will, battle for space
    Pay the ultimate price, poltergeist
    Put the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to Christ
    Focus your dice, when the vulture's in flight
    Resculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium bite
    Prophet in vein, Metropolis claim body and soul
    ID's controlled in the optical frame
    Never stoppin the game
    Remove your squad with steady plans
    I body slam punks like Superstar Billy Gramm
    
    *Straight spittin...word is bond...Flip Mode Squad...Striaght Spittin...Lyrical
    Ass Whippin...We straight Spittin....*
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