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"Kool Keith"
"Kool Keith"
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"Kool Keith"
"Kool Keith"
название:
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жанры: hip-hop
альбомы: Sex Style
After the Club
автор:
Kool Keith
жанры: hip-hop
альбомы: Sex Style
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 5.2 / 1185 просмотров
- Текст
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Ahh.. Undatakerz [Verse One: Thee Undatakerz] Man I got my wet stick ready, machete and devil mask Movin through yo' neighborhood I snatch up your ghetto pass A true to life Ghost Rider, don't try to come block my lane I'm Adolf Hitler in the flesh and I'm back, to kill again Killin this game, I never show no remorse, feelin no pain Still in this club with manic thoughts that I still kill in my brain Feelin insane I'm goin crazy Manson blood in my veins No matter what'll happen to me where I'm goin won't change The stranger lookin through your window, drinkin blood in the rain I can't explain these evil thoughts, I guess I'm goin to flame But still I'm searchin for redemption like it's money and fame We only got one life to live, a shame we live it this way [Chorus: Undatakerz] Praise the Lord, help me Jesus! (Jesus) Praise the Lord, change the game (change the game) Praise the Lord, help me Jesus! (Jesus) Praise the Lord, change the game [Verse Two: M-Balmer] Father forgive me, I'm full of sin But you said if I knocked, you'd let me in again Since I was doomed from the womb That's why I'm blessed I guess Throughout the years, I done test the test but still left 'em somethin left After so many tears with this hard liquor, cigarettes by the ounce Left with a wet one, ready to bounce So amazin, everlastin love, bust a dub Up in the club - what? Nigga what?! I thought I told you where I'm at with mine Momma born into this life of crime Money murder and mayhem go hand in hand, you better feel me These niggas real G (these niggas REAL G) Contractions is yo' reaction, when I'm blastin Laughin, shit you know these busters like plastic Clock's about to strike 12, you better save yo'self Midnight pass and last days, movin fast Check yo' periphreal, y'all don't trust 'em though Don't waste yo' breath, if y'all ain't got no flow Don't waste yo' breath, if y'all ain't got no flow Don't waste yo' breath, if y'all ain't got no flow [Chorus] [Verse Three: Reverand Tom - Kool Keith] Comin up the 101 freeway I seen a ghost lookin through the window at me It coulda been the smoke from the dank laced with PCP Ambulance in the red light, stole these vanilla Coogi sweaters Walkin into emergency Sweat by the pound, heat off my side, I let off 30 rounds Two girls in the car waitin signed In the fake name registered under Don {?} No Medicaid card, you can't see the doctor was hatin Three hours in {?} room I seen the mic on the floor; kids walkin by with some guy that looked like a dentist with balloons Lied on the application about the dust and mushrooms Four cans of {?}, walkin out around supermarket lookin meaner Embalmin fluid, 7-Up bottled, one liter Air condition off, goosebumps I left on the heater Empty rollin out 400 miles with no gas on the meter Big Moe tryin to poison the hydro Now y'all sound like diss Tryin to shoot the dang And yo I'm comin around here sniffin blow with Uncle Chris Jacked Noel Christmas, I couldn't buy them gifts Real twist, I was about to slice my wrists With your tinsels and number two pencils [Chorus] [Verse Four: Thee Undatakerz] Resigned, design, remade buildings on shrines Inclined to decline, pull your ass bone out your spine Flaunt - these aftermaths don't procrastinate A Jacky Jasper much faster, four pound blaster Duct tape what raster, but just come from Bronx Child you want somethin, nickel bags of dust, hush Weak niggaz I don't trust, plus I left the bathroom left somethin dere for you to flush, lush Drink up quick, think up schemes, linger Four carats in the crossfinger, ocean liner sinks so what nigga? Government deluxe pine box rigormortis in a tux Anthrax and chicken pox, my nickname's Fox Stolen cars and dealing with rocks When lightning strikes, suction cups, high voltage shocks You look like Spock, dead, from imitating Biggie and Tupac
Это интересно:Kool Keith - сумасшедший!В этом уверена добрая половина Америки, свыкшаяся с устоявшимся образом рэппера: золотая цепь, перевернутая бейсболка, спортивный стиль в одежде и куча сэмплов в записях. Сегодня, когда в хип-хоп-индустрии крутятся грандиозные суммы и на лейблах вербуются тысячи похожих друг на друга черных братьев и сестер с косвенными признаками таланта, никто не заинтересован... продолжение
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