a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de gangsta shit - bloods

[big wy]
yeah
that gangsta–ss sh-t
y-g
y m-th-f-ckin’ g’s
woop! woop!
let these n-ggas know man
that’s right, n-gga
yo punk, what’s up fool?
yank dawg

[lil’ hawk]
now – i’m headed to the store, once again it’s on
you call it thunderbird i call that sh-t jim jones
i need a fifth
to start off my m-th-f-ckin’ day
i’m feeling good as f-ck and now i’m ons my way
to c-k
these punk–ss n-ggas, this is c-m-g
your number one crab k!llas (that’s right)
from the 4 to the shaw even century
on figueroa we gotta sowed up
rollin’ with the d.l.b
f-ck crabs cause n-gga i blast ’em from the o.g. inglewood (to denver and nebraska)
and i ain’t f-ckin’ with no bustas
only them damu ridas ck’n’ motherf-ckers
and they ain’t showin’ no mercy when they hoo-ride
leavin’ no clues but a motherf-ckin’ homicide
lil’ hawk y-g, its just me
and c-k you should’ve been a b-the-d-the-o-the-g’zee, fool
ahahaha…

[bronco]
motherf-ck’ a handshake, hugs and a peace treaty
cause i’ll be d-mned if i’m caught slippin’, sidin’ with my f-ckin’ enemy
now it’s the time to leave the planet and die
open your chest or your vest slobs and see you later, bye
paper thin -ss wax bangers, the sh-t done hit the fan locs
squabble and shoot with any and all of you snoop hoes
n-gga choose your m-th-f-ckin’ weapon
brownies, br-ss knuckles or the black smith and wesson, i’m guessin’
that you would play the tough guy and think that you the sh-t
but i be comin’ quick with hollow tips and extra clips
fully equipped for the set trip cause i know this sh-t’s stompin’
sn-tch your heart out your chest
and we can watch it stop pumpin’
toe tag, body bags, homicides and hoo-ride
east side rip ridaz it’s f for death on mine
f-ck all slobs cuz, you die motherf-cker

[batman]
six m-th-f-ckas, .357 hollow point magnum sh-lls
closed casket made this crab mama yell
pendleton, khakis, pig tails
and stars on my feet
me and puff, a-wack
and my homie satanic sneak
i creep, with my specialty
cause i’m a professional
g-ngb-ngin’ gangsterist
i live my life in dangerous ways
i go days without eatin’, i’m steady sippin’ on night train
c-k rider k!llin’ crabs till i die
gangsta mr. bat
n-ggas wonder why, why i put it down on a m-th-f-ckin’ crab n-gga
east side swan gangsta bat
down to pull the trigga comin’ through the alley with a m-th-f-ckin’ a-k
yeah, n-gga – yellow tape
f-ck crabs
f-ck crabs, f-ck crabs, f-ck crabs!
shots out to the bloods and pirus, what’s up blood?
ninety four – we out

[six pac]
crip or cry, crip or cry, crip or, crip or, crip or die
snoops rest in p-ss, n-gga you know why
mobbin’ down the 3rd, flamed up like a fire truck
face to face with death stuck, sh-t outta luck
n-gga you just met a dark angel
you can say i work for satan cause i smoke a slobs handle
kidnap a b-dog then shoot him to the franklin squares
and let the homies take it from there
n-gga you like red so much
now check this out
tie him to a tree and pour gas on his head and mouth
well if it’s on then it’s on stick a match to him
and show the rest of his slob homies how we do him
fool i ain’t playin’ for this 9-4 season
east side f.c.g. n-gga you know the reason
blue rag hangin’ out the blue d-ckies
mobbin’ down the 3rd, got a mausberg with me
it ain’t no secret how i’m smokin’ a snoop
i take a trip to the 5th and get me a stick of that loop, shiiit
and now i’m feelin’ like the king of the planet
you ain’t crippin’, you slippin’ about to meet my automatic
yeah n-gga f-ck all slobs, this is f for death

[green eyes]
now it’s a must that i bust on these crabs quick
my m-th-f-ckin’ initiation
straight bustin’ out of the station wagon, never draggin’
i gots to get in and out
downin’ the o-e ’til it’s through and k!llin’ every wearin’ flue now
what’s next on my m-th-f-ckin’ menu
i got to find some some m-th-f-ckin’ crab
so put a f-ckin’ cap into
the earn some stripes
green eyes see some mo’
and i better not catch you slippin’, bumpin’ steady dippin’ on the ‘4
and let me show you f-ckin’ crabs how low i can get
i’ll k!ll your whole family and your pregnant crab b-tch about to give birth
to a baby crab
now that n-gga sh-t outta luck
that’s why i murdered the lil’ f-ck
this bangin’ on wax deuce
f-ck a truce
big wy i’m high so p-ss the m-th-f-ckin’ gin and juice
while i slip the clip in and commence the set trippin’
and smoke all these m-th-f-ckin’ crabs that i catch slippin’
yeah f-ck the crabs, i gotta say what’s up to the i-f-g gang

[awol]
i went to church for years but i only learned one thang good
so you can’t blame it on jesus
cause he said love thy neighborhood
i got a cousin from elm and one from the mob
i put that on my daddy, i’mma k!ll them n-ggas, f-ck slob
where you from loc, you don’t have to ask me
lotion my tats so my k-p ain’t ashy
i serve soup on cherry street
in seattle’s central district where the comptons meet, fool
i g-ngb-ng, hoo-bang, wall-bang
see my name struck up on the 91 freeway
so all slobs better hide tonight
hide tonight cause the k-gang’s hoo-ridin’
on my side, his side, your side
them slobs from the other side get up on fire, right
you might run from a kelly with heat
cause a slob in dead got to rest in grief, n-gga

- bloods

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS