Testo Hardcore - The Firm
Testo della canzone Hardcore (The Firm), tratta dall'album The Album
(Nas Escobar)
What?
That Firm shit, that Firm shit, what's that?
What?
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Everyday I'm a polli bout, who's the best hotty out?
And will they ever let Gotti out?
Am I real? Feel free to try me out
Guaranteed eternally, you signin' out
I only bang quarters, not a thing short of
than a dime, rhyme like a crime scene reporter
Thought shorty would lose but the game taught her
Hoodrat just like Thelma, James' daughter
Killer put you on, got you laced in Bucon
Bledest stone, where the place you call home?
(Foxy Brown)
Brooklyn girl, plotted then I took the world
You know the whole drill, Na Na so Ill
Make mills and escro, decimals
Cancoon, Mexico, X-and-O
Bracelets got all, along with gold
Now it's platinum rings, songs is sold
Hot from the jump-start, let the game spark
Thriller, will I shot to the top of the charts
(Nas Escobar)
Head honcho, cat Esco
Push everything from the Coupe to the Fo'
Never love a ho, get my dick sucked
Smoke the chocolate, trick my chicks up
Pass all the ki's to mami, whip it up
Fox get the B's, Bonnie live it up
Chorus: (x2)
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
(Nas) That Firm shit, that Firm shit
(Foxy Brown)
FIRM, NIGGA WHAT? Get my twat licked
Never love a trick, get him for his chips
F**k him and his dick, nigga where the six?
He actin' like a bitch, he should've known this
Got the stone the wrist, I ain't no bonin' this
Bomb ass shit, I could play with my shit
(Nas Escobar)
Rap niggas, capitalise, stock figures
Cognac is that liquor
Got me all numbed out, now I'm in the street with the guns out
Niggas better take me home, 'fore I dumbs out
Might f**k around, lay somethin' down
wit mad niggas out here to see that shit
We that click, runnin shit up in New Yick
all the way down to Hicktown, layin' it down
(Foxy Brown)
Fox be the classiest, the sassiest
The clubs, all thugs grab my wrists, offer me Moselle Crist
More of the shit to hold you with
Keep hatin' I'ma fold your bitch
Should've known to control that chick, hoes mad cos I roll the 6
Doe full of ices, black Isis
Side walk, my niggas stay f**kin your girl
The rest be, hoes in stretch jeans with red seams
Take it from me, let a nigga dream
Make em lick that, get the cat for his cream
Chorus (x2)
(Foxy Brown)
It's about time I reverse that
Bitches learn game, rehearse that
It ain't no love, ma remember that
Ya hoes wanna slap while I got him on his back
tryin to hurt that
(Nas Escobar)
Think you're grown, half the niggas sittin at home
watchin the kids, while you're gettin' it on
I'm too smart for that, caught you creepin
Receipts in your Prada bag, sweets every weekend
Spendin' my dough, I coulda spent that on hydro
You ain't slick enough, think I don't know
(Foxy Brown)
Dumb ass, think I slept on your bum ass
Knew the whole stee bout a chip like me
Did it on G-P, let you eat me
Couldn't freak me, I'm better off with TV
(Nas) That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Interlude:
Can't get enough, oooooh oooooh, oooooh oooohooooh
(Nas) That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Chorus (x3)
Interlude to fade
Credits
Writer(s): Nasir Jones, Inga D. Marchand, Terry Steven Lewis, James Samuel Harris Iii
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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