Sunday driving past your own hall of fame It's closed on weekdays, shut for good Pick out no one when you're talkin' Felt like rattlesnakes were walkin
Übersetzung: Pflaster. Black Out.
', gimme no dappin' Pull out the strapin' and start bustin', Show me you bout buckin' or duckin' Cuz I'm sendin' 17 slugs I'm a thug All about sellin' drugs, nigga you get plugged Get out
Lucky seven probably poppa Little nigga so they picked on him, hassled him Things changed when I hassled back, so David hit the pavement with his grapple
"What you doin'? " Nothin' much, squish out some other stuff Gotta fuckin' bounce, guess the bouncer's had enough of us [Verse 2:] Get up off the pavement
servin it on the reala For instance say a playa hatin mark is out to kill ya Would you be wrong, for buckin a nigga to the pavement? He gon' get me
: Johnny's in the basement Mixing up the medicine I'm on the pavement Thinking about the government The man in the trench coat Badge out, laid off Says
all your ashes And sprinkle em on the toilet paper I wipe my ass with. I got the craziest rap tactics, smoking crack till I black out And wreak havoc
few shots To get myself tipsy. Yeah, you're more than I'm drunk Then I move on to wasted, Black out, Find me passed out on the pavement. Slurring every
, keep servin it on the reala For instance say a playa hatin mark is out to kill ya Would you be wrong, for buckin a nigga to the pavement? He gon' get
on the streets, The black smoke, Gets your head in to a muddle like, Waliking into elephants, Syringes in a puddle like, I was a country boy when I moved out
: All the children testified that Miss Macbeth wore a fishbone slide in her cobweb tresses Her eyes were black like first foot coal, clutched as white
: (Jack Bruce and Pete Brown) In the white room with black curtains near the station. Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings. Silver
: [Cream] In the white room With black curtains Near the station Black country roof No gold pavements Tired starlings Silver horses Ran down moonbeams
them hard hits And I'm harmin, bombin, with heavy bombardments Pushin, poetry, like weed by the pounds Underground railroad RZA track lay it down I'm hard as pavement
black life is this line, "Damn - him already? Such a good kid," got us pourin Henn' already Liquor to the curb for my, niggaz up above When it, cracks through the pavement
bouncing out fronting on five more Fuck'em ride around run in the side door I'm who the dimes call chasing a thug Back of the mansion we living out flavor
Follow you Reach out of long black sleeves with skeleton hands Touch rappers watch them rot their skin fall off Boil in the pavement on a cold boardwalk
