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letra de god bless the dead - keefer

[xxxtentacion]
you ever seen a n-gga hung with a gold chain?
i’d rather sing about the same things that we claim
such is bashful, but n-ggas like the task force
mobbin’ on the streets and robbin’ stores in ski masks, bruh
n-ggas ask for peace in a riot and bring violence
‘cause it’s a game of cat and mouse and you gon’ bleed silent
what’s the justice in sayin’ f-ck it and grab the pump?
then k!ll a woman with many children makes you a chump
look at all the stores you wreckin’, n-gga i reckon
think about the people who own it for about a second
i know you got your problems, but brother, they got theirs
this is not a game, quit violence and grow a pair
but yo, you’d rather hear mе say, “f-ck black prejudice!”
“let’s murdеr different races, grow hatred, and form irrelevant!”
views and etcetera, knives thrown
damage ’em, lives blown, oblivion hole cold, oblivious
i won’t dare say that you should stop the f-ckin’ ignorance
murder ops, k!llin’ sh-t, i’d enjoy the thrill of it
bath in blood of officers, different corpses, offin’ ’em
auction ’em, don’t you bark at ’em
murder ’em, never heard of ’em

[2pac]
what does it take to be a g?
silence is a must, violence is a plus
bust shots at my adversaries, them n-ggas scurry
pick a spot to be buried, ‘cause i’ll be buckin’ in a f-ckin’ hurry
thug for life, high ’til i die
shootin’ crooked ass cops, let me fry
do or die, to my brothers, tell ’em
game thicker than most of these tricks
i got my mind on makin’ money
but you stuck on these fake b-tches
and jealous motherf-ckers can’t see
that’s it’s the fame that causes
these stupid b-tches to pass the p-ssy free
so tell me, why you sweat a motherf-cker like me?
a young n-gga tryin’ to hustle up some g’s
you p-ssy-ass playa hatin’ hoes
freakin’ down on n-ggas, jumpin’ around at the shows
and you the first motherf-cker to jump
to the trunk when it’s time for funk, little trick-ass punk
thug motherf-ckers don’t die
we get high and we multiply, motherf-cker
give a holla to my n-ggas in the bay
i’m livin’ in l.a., still clutchin’ on my ak

mobbin’ like a motherf-cker, stuck
can you picture a middle finger out the window, gettin’ f-cked
off liquor; get loaded, can’t control it
n-gga, pass me the blunt and let me roll it
you get the bozack to the ho-stack, that’s for sho’, black
so be a mack and keep your dough fat
and tell me, what does it take to be a g?
i started with a quarter ounce, soon bounced to a ki’
you gotta watch your back, stay strapped, be alert
started as a young motherf-cker doin’ dirt
and now i’m in the rap game, like the crack game, i got enemies
can’t pretend to see my friends are not my enemies
and even thug motherf-ckers wanna have fun
[eazy e]
1,2,3, and to the 4
eazy m-th-f-ckin’ e
with the chrome to your dome
cruisin’ in my ’64 rag top
i got a lot of juice
a lot of f-ckin’ block
now when i hit that switch i’m bouncin’
more bounce to the ounce
and i’m clownin’
keep the gat in my lap
cuz i’m fully strapped
for the car jackers
f-ck no hapsters
i pack a tech-9
plus a ak-47
send a one way ticket to my h-ll
or maybe heaven, peep
n-gga i don’t sleep
bury m-th-f-ckas in the concrete
you try creep kinda slow in a astro
but i peep you n-ggas out in my left window
so i blast and i blast til i blast no mo
yo, they call a m-th-f-cka john doe

hey yo b-tch
here’s the seven digits
call me if you can
only if you want it
let a n-gga know
can i dig like a miner, 49er
diggin’ for gold from behind her
here’s the seven digits
call me if you can
only if you want it
let a n-gga know
can i dig like a miner, 49er
diggin’ for gold from behind her
hey yo b-tch

- keefer

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