Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Safe Box, artista - La the Darkman.
Data di rilascio: 20.08.2010
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Safe Box |
Staten Island niggas, forgotten borough, the most thorough |
Oh shit, haha, the tri-boro, hahahaha |
Fuckas… yeah… come again, what? |
It’s M-E-F, bitches, say it with the Meth, niggas |
When I’m on the come up, ain’t no telling who gon' get done up |
On the highway to heaven, with they thumb up |
I’m far from a dumb fuck, I’m a mack |
Just like them dumptrunks, I hold alotta weight on my back |
See I’m, already pumped up, I’m ready to shine |
It’s Mr., cover of Blender, who ready to grind? |
And I still got it, I repeat, I still got it |
And any artist that trash talk, is still garbage |
How critics gon' think I lost my skill |
When in fact, ya’ll all been programmed and lost your feel |
Please believe, I’m still grimey, try me |
And I remind ya’ll muthafuckas why Def Jam signed me |
M-E to the Tizzy, H-O to the Dizzy |
To see me, it’s something like pimpin', it ain’t easy |
It’s something like pimpin', it ain’t easy |
To see me, it’s something like pimpin', it ain’t easy |
Yo, I stash money like a crooked banker, casablanca |
Ninety-six, crack cranker, back shot, ass spanker |
Get head, then I thank her, for blessin' the God |
Pull a blunt hard, for my jail niggas on the yard |
Think like Master Farrad, die hard, La’s God |
I need currency, cash, eagles in the credit card |
Co-starred in cocaine, like, couldn’t get my brain right |
Robbin' niggas smokin' and fuckin', in the same night |
Jumpin' on the train, like, talkin' how we did it, kid |
And my niggas caught a body, then me and my niggas slid |
Blue coats came, we hid, inside a pyramid |
Unseen, as a real Egyptian king |
Asiatic, doing mathematics, guns is my bad habit |
Try’nna civilize a savage, rest on, every Sabbath |
LaSon, like my coke white as a unicorn |
Word is bond, everyday got a new uniform |
I want it all, never fall, fuck that, forever war |
I need a mansion and my closet gotta look like a mall |
It’s Darkman |
It’s a new day, new way, new rules, new school |
New pay, new cake, new crew, new fools |
Fuckin' with my safe box (all you niggas get shot) |
Fuckin' with my safe box (all you niggas get shot) |
I got the drop on you, don’t flinch |
Pop niggas like John Lynch, leave niggas in they own stench |
I’m a light drinker, heavy smoker |
Known for duckin' show promoters |
Pass the money, over, my whole crew is ex-cons |
Be alarmed, when you hear the *err-urrrrr* |
It’s on, Silverback niggas under the stairs |
When we link up, we travel in pairs |
Ya’ll niggas best to beware, of the most thoroughest |
Cover all aspects, four corners, you can’t creep up on us |
I’m takin' one for the team, deal me in |
And when the smoke clear, do it again |
This ain’t a side show, you could die slow |
There’s no I in team, we all ride… yo! |
The master of the ceremony, this is my testament |
Homicide Housing, that’s what I represent |
Don’t get it fucked up, drapped, that’ll extra grind |
When I pop up with silencers, you next in line |
Swift with a nine, in conflict, prefer four-five |
And we Loose Linx, can’t control these Animalz of mine, now |
Staten Island’s back on the map, while the P.L.O. fugitive’s back |
Using the fact, drama in these streets you gon' see it and get used to the clap |
Blockbuster movie picture, doggy, preview that |
Carlton Fisk flow in a Lex, gorilla Homicide Housing |
Came to collect, know the sounds, just a pain in the neck |
Listen young’n, I’m an O.G., see I done mastered the flow |
With creeping up slow, so chill 'fore I blow three |
At your windshield, come on, dog, you know me |
I raised you from a young pup, I taught you how to show teeth |
And growl on a nigga, style on a nigga |
One minute you so cool, then foul to a nigga |
Ya’ll suckas is pre-schoolers, a child to a nigga |
I’m the resurrection of rap, now bow to a nigga |
A little old me from Staten Island’s gonna get cha |
And I pack a big gun, and it weighs a grip of ton |
So Run like you DMC, ain’t no defeating me |
I set up shop on your block and plots off strategically |
Maybe it’s the weed in me, nah a bottle of Henny |
Quick to run up on your ass and follow with semi', muthafucka |