Testo Keep It Thoro - Main - Prodigy
Testo della canzone Keep It Thoro - Main (Prodigy), tratta dall'album Pure... Hip Hop
Uh-huh, oh, y'all niggas killers now? Oh word?
Catch you comin' out your fuckin' crib, nigga
Yeah, catch a fuckin' bullet, nigga
Ayo
I break bread, ribs, hundred dollar bills
Peel on Ducattis and other four-wheels
Write a book full of medicine and generate mills
Tour the album, only for more sales
We used to catch those on the block with crills
Now it's paid shows, promoters post up bills
Sign deals only if the math is real
If we can't match numbers, then you can't have the head nigga
In charge of shit, live nigga, rhymes artist
Pardon, P Dub shines regardless
Remorseless, haunt niggas like poltergeist
My advice 'fore it get like that is think twice
'Fore you move on it, put jewels on it, who want it?
Loose niggas make the news when we start formin'
Snatch stripes off a nigga's uniform often
Doin' it past your delf, you way out your jurisdiction
While niggas bullshit on the grill
I don't fuck around, dunny, it's most real
I keep it thorough, nigga
Yo, let me back up for 'em, let me back up, yo, yo
While niggas bullshit on the grill
I don't fuck around, dunny, it's most real
I gave birth to your whole style and feel
How do it feel to hold my dick in public?
Cock blower, duplicate rap cloner
It's me and you, do it live on stage for dolo
I smack niggas like you, smash niggas by the tools
Grab niggas by the throat, show and prove
Rhymes cocky, crazy ill, mad rowdy
Did a buck off of my shit and wrapped your Audi
Temperamental, I snap quick, very touchy
Ayo, my attitude is all fucked up and real shitty
I rap like no one out there can fuck with me
You feel different, nigga, see me, I'll throw a TV at you
Crazy, bitches say, "P, you crazy"
A pain in the ass now, but fuck you, pay me
I'm no shorty, nigga, I'll stop your glory
I'm a thorough street nigga for real, you just applaud me
Avoid P, man, take your baby mom's advice
I'm nothin' sweet, ill with the guns, you pay the price
When you see me in the streets, soldier, salute me
You just a groupie, oh, you gangsta? Then shoot me
Who gives a fuck, really? I miss my nigga Twin, kill me
So I can join the rest of my force up in the heavens
You rap niggas make me laugh, y'all crazy ass
And I don't give a fuck what you sold, that shit is trash
Bang this, 'cause I guarantee that you bought it
Heavy airplay all day with no chorus
I keep it thorough, nigga
Credits
Writer(s): Albert Johnson, Alan Maman
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