Testo Thugs Anthem - Kool G Rap
Testo della canzone Thugs Anthem (Kool G Rap), tratta dall'album Roots of Evil
Strictly for all the tricks that's on the strip to get loot
For all my niggas that don't ever trick to hit boots
For all my peoples coppin' bricks to get the quick loot
For all my niggas in the ground that got they wig blew
Strictly for all the tricks that's on the strip to get loot
For all my niggas that don't ever trick to hit boots
For all my peoples coppin' bricks to get the quick loot
For all my niggas in the ground that got they wig blew
Don't know who it is, kid, you better check the formula
'Fore I have to send these slugs at you just to warm you up
Man, homicide be lookin' for whoever tore you up
Flood up the whole block with paramedics and coroners
I could roll up all by myself and make your street closed
Yo, you could be twenty deep and still get your feet rolled
Believe me, ain't none of 'em runnin' up when heat blow
You sleep, throw your whole Sweet'N Low
Free to go deeper than six feet low
This wiseguy's enterprise
We emphasize whoever dies, never sympathize
Still on the rise no matter how many men minimize
We send up our, chicks with bricks inside they inner thighs
Some real thugs conductin' drug traffic in disguise
Never hide, we lay low, stay unidentified
It's all live
Strictly for all the tricks that's on the strip to get loot
For all my niggas that don't ever trick to hit boots
For all my peoples coppin' bricks to get the quick loot
For all my niggas in the ground that got they wig blew
Yo, it's the radical, mathematical, fanatical
Magnifico money-making myth in Mexico
You try to fuck me, yo, I'll bust you in your cherry hole
Still run the streets and now you're feelin' me in stereo
I felt the graces from the highest to the very low
One day you're countin' money, next, yo, you're diggin' holes
Don't try to do this at home, this is professionals
Congression hoes, street medal award winners
Makin' a point that's hollow, do you follow?
Wanna meet me tomorrow? What?
Greet the heffer with a pinky pucker, sucker
Could have it lucky with the wink of an eye
Make you die, make you fly in the sky, you askin' why?
While your soul's floatin' over me, you owin' me
You shoulda been knowin' me, not blowin' me
Now your life's a big mystery, a casualty
Another faded memory, that's awful, B
'Cause I'm still breathin' steadily
You think the poker face is bluffin', nigga, ante up
And unless you branded me with that iron, put your jammy up
You point and leave me breath, we'll blaze you and your family up
You on your ass for tryna show it, pull your panties up
Me and these cats, we makin' a livin' makin' sure you don't
Information's not to be given, makin' sure you won't
Shit's real, not wannabe dagos off in play clothes
ATF here, but scared to get close like in Waco
Nickel plate pros, made men who make those
My red dot's not on dice, but best believe it shakes foes
Reflex reaction if I hear you disrespect the faction
Fuck these niggas, like Minaj, I give 'em double action
Up to no good, fellas makin' out a faux pas
Savage niggas turn your cabbage into coleslaw
Usin' my dome calls to notify your next of kin
That snitch you lookin' for, he's in the trunk I left him in
Strictly for all the tricks that's on the strip to get loot
For all my niggas that don't ever trick to hit boots
For all my peoples coppin' bricks to get the quick loot
For all my niggas in the ground that got they wig blew
Strictly for all the tricks that's on the strip to get loot
For all my niggas that don't ever trick to hit boots
For all my peoples coppin' bricks to get the quick loot
For all my niggas in the ground that got they wig blew
Credits
Writer(s): Earl Thomason, Nathan Wilson, A Long, J Salcido
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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