![Blam Blam - Killer Mike](https://cdn.muztext.com/i/32847578479413925347.jpg)
Data di rilascio: 09.04.2007
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Blam Blam |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s nowhere to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Once again when the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s no where to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun |
Usually the two would be |
Beside me when I cruise the street |
Blue your feet blue your seat |
He who moves usually |
Cool it be, slow your roll |
These niggas here dey cool with me |
Rock the same shoes as me |
Went to the same school as me |
News would be, |
That these niggs I am tryin bring up on ya, I just called to let ya know, |
You need to keep the K up on ya |
Chop up all these credit cards |
Career is all that laid up on ya |
Skeet skeet, |
Move fast don’t let them bitches lay up on ya |
You know you really wanna be rollin instead |
Hey there some niggas out here tryin to put a hole in yo head |
Hey and sold ya for bread |
Findin the life that we chose |
Fast cars and this money |
And these trifling hoes |
Keep it real! |
Who wanna test-a the goon or the pride |
I keep it on my hips they call me onsly |
Go and let a few fly |
That made a few die |
Some fell straight down others handglide |
But none of them survive the rising of the tide |
Drown in they own blood |
Like pigs in the mud |
Insert a few buds |
Make sure he don’t bud |
Or toss or throw away |
I don’t hold the grub |
When the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s nowhere to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Once again when the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s no where to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun |
Cancer sniff, hands just split |
Scoop me in the jag and dip |
Nag a bitch and flag a ship |
Over there like a bag of chips |
Whodini and genie out of a bikini that’s a magic trick |
Abra Kadabra, I caught it all on camera |
(While I) My major stamina |
Fuck all the amateurs |
Smokin lavender |
It’s slightly lighter than purple with a murk |
My family matters but ain’t no Urkels in my circle of trust |
Amongst eachothe, we trust each brother |
There’s another mad situation, |
Sad situation |
That every nigga I know is in a bad situation (Situation) |
I’m tired of waiting, |
Tired of being patient, |
Tired of waking up wondering if we gonna make it (gonna make it) |
My hands are full |
I’m a Grindtime disciple |
Right hand the Bible |
Left hand the rifle (a rifle) |
We freed us boys |
And we both got degrees |
I got mine from the schools |
He got his from the street |
Told me «little nigga don’t be like me"(like me) yes I didn’t listen no |
disrespecting he |
(now back to me) It's kind of sad |
That that’s all I want to be |
A member of the game |
Rappin and using slang |
And even at career day |
I said the same thang |
Teacher shook her haid |
«What a god damn shame» |
But really motherfucker |
Who really should you blame |
I had protica my environment |
Workin towards retirement |
Just another motherfucker |
Trying to come up |
Hand above the water |
And Get head from your daughter |
But who gives a fuck |
Go on and sign me up |
Big Slim in the building nigga throw ya G’z up! |
When the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s nowhere to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Once again when the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s no where to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun |
The rugor man the toolastan |
From here to Jerusalem |
Used to move it down |
Twelve hundred sixty two grams |
Heavy chevy runnin fuck it |
It’s a bucket trap car |
Red dogs to my nigga |
Trying to trap a track star |
Hell naw we under rated |
Down’ll be the day mo' |
Catch me in da eight mo' |
Yeah I got the yay mo' |
Slip double played partna |
Parkin lot pimpin on em |
Droppin toppin flippin on em |
Cop a block and flip it on em |
Pussy boy boxy boy |
You ain’t never shattered shatta boy |
You a boxy boy |
Never shat a boy |
That’s why I shot all ya shattas boy |
Left em dead |
On all my hotter boys |
Blunts of madosia |
Saturate the polo |
Leave a man older nickle plated fofo |
Strike like made cobras |
Car jot em come get em |
Cause his life over |
Tell 'em Sheriff John Brown |
If he come through town |
He will be shot down |
'pon sight 'pon day 'pon night |
He’ll be dead upon the river |
With them boxy boys |
And them in for my niggas |
Beaten swollen bloated like an elephant man |
Blunts swollen, bloated like an elephant man |
Past getting high, smokin' for the hell of it man |
If you ain’t Grindtime |
You irrelevant man |
Not Peel, not Jones Nario shit |
I’m sorry hoe |
Not Zack not Jack not Bill Collector A |
Fuck you very much |
Hope you have a bad day |
Grindtime |
(Chuckle) |
When the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s nowhere to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Once again when the glock go blam blam, (boom, boom) |
You die you don’t get jiggy done you’re done done |
No there’s no where to hide nowhere to run run |
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come |
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun |
Nome | Anno |
---|---|
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