Back on the streets again Ready for the action Our wear is very casual Don't wanna draw any attention Looking for opponents Hiding from the sirens The
club is in my veins Morals and values of the crazy minds The outsider is the society We tear it off the ground Hey, hey, join the club of monstrous action
Wanna have some lovely fun with me Talking bullocks and ignore reality Never cool, always highest temperament Shouting loud and never be silent Psycho
I am in the dark Cold like steel No one to talk to Nothing to see In the mist are a thousand creatures Hounding me, never free Eaten alive in my own
Party like a devil in delirium Run like a maniac to strike Stripping off and wander Fast like a thunder It's time to celebrate the feast of crime No
My father is jobless and my mom has passed away Sister a whore and my brother in jail Always out of cash and got nothing to eat Where I come from is
: Please mr. deejay, play this song for me.... RIT Il Guercio: notte di mezza estate, in sogno precipito e atterro sveglio sopra queste strade bevo
looking nigga get the upper hand I got issues, got no time, got guns that mourn nigga's moms shoot up clubs and destroy nigga's vibes everybody running for their motherfucking lives Tough club
em, niggas they know im ready for them, im the hardest ima ?? so im heated heavy for it, why you lookin for me nigga wit yo lookin ass, meet me at the club
So what you gonna do when the blood is gushin? You're playin Roulette without the Russian The stakes are high; can you feel the pressure? Lookin at the club
like Smokey's voice, little moist, but choice We guzzle Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats Live on the edge, bracelets, shades and classy coats Jungle in the club
JIMMY! My name is St. Jimmy I'm a son of a gun I'm the one that's from the way outside (St. Jimmy) I'm a teenage assassin executing some fun In the
dopo morto il Libano Quando arrivo dicono UOH Gue in sta roba sono il Prince Boateng Flow ti strangola Boa saw slang fa saltare in aria il club stile
for the ballers and mobsters on the dance floe You wonder how I'm blowing up I take care of my biz And I be tearing up the club to make my bank account
praise God, baby mom's cryin' Planned to be a strong black family But we both were too young, too strung, too much flashin' New come, I caught verbal assassin
their chest like they tall as sky scrapers But they small as a shanty in a African village Soft as cotton candy we assassins and killers Let shottie off in club