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letra de dipset symphony lyrics (feat. juelz santana, mim jones, hell rell, jr writer, 40 cal, un kasa) - dip

[mister c: intro]
i don’t give a f-ck who’s first or who’s last, the dipset is gonna rock this sh-t out at a drop of a brick n-gg-. i don’t care what y’all say, i don’t care what y’all do, but y’all better rep harlem until the god-d-mned music is through. mister c, lets go!

[juelz santana]
all eyes on the honorable, who?
dipset, back to the grill again live at the barbeque
beefs on, all my kids ride like a carnival
heats drawn, all you kids lie, like carpet do
get up and get ready, what up, the kids ready
now that im back, the game is f-cked, the b-tch let me
you front, you stunt, you get heat clown
yeah, punks jump up, to get beat down

[jim jones]
now eight years ago, i played the bench with dimes
everybody in my park was getting bent off dimes
pitchin packs on the block, tryin’ to get us some sneakers
sippin yak, henney, rock, puffin nickels of reefer
i’m pumpin on the strip, in the midst of the drug trade
im watching for the blitz in the midst of the drug raid
for n-gg-s gotta eat, its like my stomach is touching back
new york’s ryder man, for you suckers im f-ckin back

[h-ll rell]
now can i, kick it?
yes i can
they wanna know if im g’d up
yes i am
look, i over-paid my dues, i almost made the news
the block kinda hot but the c-ke came on move
if i was a brick, you wouldn’t know what to do with me
you’d probably cook me up, get a stem, and start using me
n-body built me, i made myself and
you don’t know how to shoot guns, you’d graze yourself

[j.r. writer]
i was a fiend, before i became a teen
it was dreams, toss for the latest beams (urh)
made in cream, cuz hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray
way before it was maybelene
im into major stacks, major stats, hate on that
cam, holla cuz im gonna bring his label plaques
that aint made of plat, whoa, your jewellery aint gold
you cop ya jewellery from hov, they all fade to black

[40 cal]
when i was nine years old i realized who was a roll (?)
at the end i cop a benz when i chop some o’s, forty
smokin lye, optimoz, poppin mo’s, we both shoppin?
difference is you coppin clothes, i’ll show you how to drop a rolls,
whether a phantom or a flower, i’m a killa like jaffi joe
im from where they made the c-cky flow
while hoes puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a hockey goal

[un kasa]
i keep a nine in my dresser, lyrical professer
keep you under pressure, aint a n-gg- better
mind like a com-puter, sick shooters
you’ll get finned, go to war with six shooters
i bone b-tches with coupes and big hooters
give head, and piff buddha, pump bricks and sip luha
ha you hard, you runnin with state troopers
my n-gg-s is straight shooters, c-ck back, and straight shoot ya

[mister c: outro]
not in my book, never that n-gg-, i’ll ask y’all n-gg-s to go till the motherf-ckin beat stops, when i had the dipset right, i had juelz santana, jim jones, h-ll rell, jr writer, 40 cal, un kasa, dipset forever n-gg-, mister c signin’ off, duke da god

- dip

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