Testo The Interview - Slim Thug
Testo della canzone The Interview (Slim Thug), tratta dall'album Already Platinum Reloaded
What's good everybody?
It's your girl Alana D.
Chillin' with my boy the boy Slim Thug
He's from Texas
Now son you've been doin' it real big for awhile
But please, tell us what's the secret to your success?
I'm a bonafide hustla
Used to have to bust bricks down in half
In order to see the cash
That's in the past
Niggas outta see the stash
Went straight to the bentley
Skilled, the S-class
I was a star before I signed autographs
This the beginning, y'all ain't seen my last
When I call myself a hustla
I ain't talking about moving rocks
I'm talkin' bout them 9's and them aks and them glocks
When y'all was on the corner
Out there runnin' from them cops
I was out there sellin' all them local crack spots
Boyz in blue and we creep deep
Motherfuckin' police
We make the rules in the streets nigga
I feel you, I feel you
Now we talk about about a couple of artists that are in Texas
And anything to feel that bacause you got that Texas style
That's gonna limit your success, but please
Tell me how you feel about that
I'm an H-town nigga
So FUCK y'all niggas
Got a fo'-fo' thatta buck y'all niggas
I rap so low, won't trust ya'll niggas
And if you get out of line
Might touch ya'll niggas
Stay out my way
Cause nigga I ain't for play
Ya niggas say you G's
That must mean you niggas gay
He's from H-town
But he don't stay where I stay
I'm from the land of the killers
He don't lay where I lay
So get it right motherfuckers
Don't try to put me in the same shoes with them suckers
There's a real thick line between rhymers and some hustlas
Them niggas ain't no gangstas
Them niggas is some bustas
Okay talk to 'em
Now you kow, I see you right here with all these diamonds, all these chains
You drivin' around in bentley's
But I don't ever see you with any security
Please, what's the word on that
Pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
They be checkin' other fools, but they ain't checkin' mine
You run up tryin' you gon' be lyin' down dyin'
When you hear that clock clock sound comin' out of the iron
I ain't no fuckin' punk, I suggest you niggas chill
Cause if I pop this trunk, then somebody gon' get killed
This ain't no rap act, my nigga I'm really real
Go on run your ass up, and watch me stop you with the steel
Niggas must be on peel, cause it's evident they heal
Think the boss went soft cause I got a record deal
I do this rap shit cause makin' hits pay my bills
And I could give a fuck what you other suckers feel
For real
Aight yo, keep doin' your thing
We lookin' out for you brother
You got anything else in the works
What can we expect from you in the future?
Boys in blue, comin' soon
Credits
Writer(s): Robert Brandon Smith, Stayve Thomas, Norman Ray Harris, Allan Wayne Felder
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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