Instrumente
Ensemblen
Oper
Komponisten
Performers

Songtexte: Three 6 Mafia. When The Smoke Clears. Mafia N***z.


that god damm dope...yeah hoe yeah hoe(all throught the song)
we gotta come like we get down 'n' dirty for our figas, we gotta come like we
be quick to pull back on some triggas, we gotta come you know that devil shit
is still up in us, we mafia niggas, we mafia niggas,(this chourse 1 more time)
so that wicked got some shit you bitches neva saw i come wit shakas and they
bumpin now ill break the law, i cut the air for you breathe, whill im blazin on
theses greens....something anbout trees)..we'll take yo leg all off, you chokin
from exhaust, you lost up in the sauce, you stumble against the wall,dont play
with lord at all, you didn't listin now you pissin down yo leg and got a gun
against yo head, you know im headin for a bloody ball? im tryin to go for boss,
prepare for all the cops, i got'em possin when i toss it and we'll get 'em all,
im dirty for the calls, bitch dont you hit the balls, i'll lock you bitches in
the ice box when its full of frost, bitch dont you know when i am high i leave
a dimplo, cock back this pistol and i'll pop you like a pimpo (pimple), i got
the 2, and the stones, in yo home, with the chrome, you alone, and the rest is
very simpo (simple)

chourse times

aint no nigga dont play with me, play wit me my nigga im gonna lay ya in the
street, all i came for is cheese, maybe thats hard to belive, im gonna lock
down a load and let yo bitch ass bleed, let y'all know that i came, wit some
shit up my sleeve, know what i mean my nigga its only just me slit a line down
my sleeve? something put some lead in yo heart, its only the sick shit, dont
get shit started.

now ever scince we came, them hatas dont know where to go, they try to go to
they crib, i shot around in there home, im bustin lugas with some lugas do ya
nigga im gonna send some straight through ya screw ya, bout this buisness, bout
these boys, bout this witness wit these toys
wit these toys yeah we gotta make the noise when we cock 'em guaranteed to kill
'em rob 'em stop 'em wit a saud off shot gun niggas in the street and, frid up
only dog food? and rockin so much dope the restrooms toxic in the madness its
like psycotic
the last chourse.