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 radar radio x mobo awards (cypher) - radar radio x mobo awards

[intro: kenny allstar & ld]
yeah, gang gang gang
alladat, sixty
you know
k-trap, tef, harlem loski, you know
drillers in the cut, real mobo cypher
know they had to get man back
drill scene got the scene on lock
it’s mad mad
aight! sixty!

[verse 1: ld]
last year it was clear the bbc bunked man
they don’t want tuggs in here
awards in the air gettin’ held by gunman
new boys make bare sounds
i could beat your mash, like you really have bun man?
i put it to the test, press three in the sec
have a guess what bunned man
from long time we drenched them
i remember when i cheffed up…
hold on, wait, i can’t finish that sentence
i ain’t gotta give you names
that’s serious work, please ‘dem man are not mentioned
i schooled these kids, live corn hold ’em back like detention
bare badman in my dp, lookin’ all swift, this a sixty section
big bad 25 shots
still come through and gettin’ you got
‘dem big men had their time, now the 67 goons got the city on lock
yeah we do music, but we ain’t rich so we settin’ up shop
snoopy walked in d squared out [?] with a pack of rock
now check dis
before i ever knew hoops, before i ever wore loubs’
i had me a hand ting tryna slap yutes
respect dis, me and my 67 goons
yeah we’re still trappin’ and drillin’ and settin’ up shop with million views

[verse 2: k-trap]
just linked jay with a tony yay
he’s saying it’s awesome
bro got a mop with the clip on the side
just doin’ up awkward
had a mac and chips
just doin’ up portions
get caught with this kind of smoke
they won’t give me no caution
i’ll blow it and damp his top
for tryna blow things out of proportion
spent a 160 on a bell, i coulda’ got the latest jordans
try f-ck with the gang, you’ll be the latest victim
i’ll line ’em up and pitch ’em
shoot saying hand that i whip with
i just done it and dash
i didn’t see no witness
put shh on a woosh
step round there just whislin’
see the olders sizzlin’
the opps keep givin’ it verbal
the plug just givin’ me din-dins

[verse 3: liquez]
can’t tell what’s nothing
still ride on a ting, get bussin’
so stop all the fussin’ about who buns what ’cause we bun ’em
free itch [?] ’cause they done him
violence i love it
don’t push my b-ttons
i’ll rise my suttin’
if it ain’t me on my ones, then my sixties comin’
don’t lack in the party ’cause i’ve got my gun in
wouldn’t wanna f-ck with the 6, they know that we tuggin’
i do what i like, still atl one hunnid

[verse 4: dimzy]

[verse 5: asap]
qway qway with a hard pack
miles away with some junkies
big cutters in the bando, for anybody tryna rob me
got crack rocks serving, chopping up in the table
no one open the curtains
67 that’s gang sh-t, its been years and we still run sh-t
big guns that we f-ck with
leave a man in the bloodpit
young g wanna work, send him cunch, make him twerk
two bells in that twelve, double tap make him learn
i love the bando, if i could, i’d be there everyday
i’m doing road, i’m doing shows
i’m getting racks cause of what i say
from qway back, money affi make
i ain’t got time to sit and wait
spending money, we wylin’
dash the flake in the pyrex
these n-gg-rs dont want no smoke
man roll up and fry them
real savage with the cutter, might creep up and just snipe them
i was in ot grafting, got ripped up for some numbers
half of them weren’t answering

[verse 6: youngs teflon]

[verse 7: monkey]

[verse 8: loski]
chatting, magician ting on these opps
woosh, i swear i make all of that vanish
15 on my hip, no lacking
splash the opps and start bragging
bring skengs out on them peds, teddy bruckshot with that cannon
man slide around where they hang
opps chat ’nuff and don’t bang
man bore your belly and chest
barbies screaming “stop that’s my man!”
trap and bang, who’s on man?
spartan bad, still with… free mizmac
splash addict, free broski lackz
with sd when they ching’d up… what else?
tell her i’m harlem, loski loose
i hate gyal thats dead and rude
i got barbies telling me splash
caramel barbie ain’t she cute?
don’t talk to me about bands
wear mans cunch pay on some shoes
four dottys with red bells, i got green ones for it too
splash and boot, beef don’t lose
eating… with crew
italian kicks, got more then a few
a rack on buscemi, velvet blue
call me a traitor, spartan boo
how’s it beef? we pressure them yutes
third am, done 22 wounds
how’s he alive? i don’t have a clue

- radar radio x mobo awards

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS