Testo State Prop - State Property
Testo della canzone State Prop (State Property), tratta dall'album State Property Presents the Chain Gang, Vol. 2
This summer's our summer
Come release some of that hunger
The streets want us back, nigga
It's our turn, time to attack the game
Fuck no fallin' back again
These niggas better respect our game or the Tec I aim
Don't be scared, beware of the rap Bron James
And even when I couldn't back my game
Had a lot of women workin' like Maxwell sing
Hung around a lot of bad karma
My brother did it, so for me it's automatic drama
That's just the business, had to lace up my boots
Switch up my hoopties
Damn, I can't stand when a nigga a groupie
Lookin' at me like his niggas'll shoot me
When they should be tryin' to get at a cutie
I got 50 to do 'em
Kill 'em all 'fore them niggas assuming
That we give a fuck about them, tell 'em 50 is suin'
All my niggas bust
Witnessed a whole lot of death in our young ages
Y'all don't see the stress in our young faces
Y'all don't understand me inside
Every time I see his family I cry
So every time I put my hand up to God
Think of 'em all night, tight grip on my heater
And I pray that he alright, hopin' I meet him
We pour that liquor to the curb for the niggas up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showin' love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
We still'll dress up to them clubs, on grip up on them snubs
Find out where them niggas rest, straight hit them niggas up
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
This summer's our summer
Come release some of that hunger
The streets want us back, nigga
What's the waitin' for, nigga? We ready
What's them shanks for, nigga? We heavy
Play the range, boy, aim it steady
Make his brains look like spaghetti
Shotgun play, I'm the black Jim Kelly
Plus I heard they be out on the daily
Have his brains hangin' out on his skelly
Bangin' out on the daily
Basic, that is, we got guns to crack ribs
And we come and you scared, you don't know what this is
It's more heat, homie, we in the mix
You yappin' your lips, we stackin' these chips and yappin' your bitch
We got it, hustle, don't knock it
Yours ain't sellin' much on the strip, that's your problem
I show you how to grind from the bottom
The beef jump, semi-automatic up a problem
It's Neef Buck, niggas always said I was a problem
The heat tucked, gotta let it out if it's a problem
Show you how to do this thing, straight through the lane
Get straight to the change, State Prop chain gang
And I'm ridin', they frontin', they dyin', I'm dumpin'
Slugs out the Eagle, it ain't 'bout nothin'
We pour that liquor to the curb for the niggas up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showin' love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
We still'll dress up to them clubs, on grip up on them snubs
Find out where them niggas rest, straight hit them niggas up
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
This summer's our summer
Come release some of that hunger
The streets want us back, nigga
I got you, scrap, commit suicide
All y'all need to kill yourself
Quiet scrap, don't do it, die
It's fuckin' with mags, do or die
You know me, scrap, you know the cat tell the truest lies
Circin' your block with blueish fire
Hop out, pop into a dime, Uzi pop out two at a time
Yeah, that's usually how I do it, ma
Put 'em to a calm 'fore I use these to 'em to a line
Get hyped right before I do a crime
Tip-toe between the con, put the toolie to his spine
Show him what the whippings and the pills'll do
Little dress, little wig, little heels'll do
Big Tec, little Sig, tinted wheel'll do
Cut the check, I turn a mil' to a billion too
Get the point in the middle?
Motherfucker, you can't point when I hit you, bitch, I'll kill you too
By the way, send the tailors through
Sharp crooks and we eatin', get the cooks and the dealers through
'Cause we ridin', they frontin', they dyin', we dumpin'
Young Gunnaz, Sigel, that ain't 'bout nothin', nigga
We pour that liquor to the curb for the niggas up above
When it crash through the cement, that's our way of showin' love
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
We still'll dress up to them clubs, on grip up on them snubs
Find out where them niggas rest, straight hit them niggas up
State Prop, you know us, if not, you heard of us
Tracks murdered, I'm far from rats how we servin' 'em
This summer's our summer
Come release some of that hunger
The streets want us back, nigga
Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Ries, Hanif Muhammad, Al Rad H Lewis
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