Daz Dillinger

Daz Dillinger - Gang Bangin Ass Criminal songtekst

Je score:

[Daz Dillinger]
 Yeah  Daz Dillinger
 I'm gonna take you into some gangsta shit
 What y'all niggas don't even know about
 And now you ?feels? to know about
 what we call Gangsta Rap
 But this is for the niggas who was down from day one
 Love to hear  love to hear you motherfuckers
 I advise all you ghetto livin', struggling from day to day,
 tryin' to flip a figure dollar devil up inside a bag of weed,
 a fresh pair of khakis and take a bitch to the groovy ass niggas
 To get your money man, get paid
 These motherfuckers are cut off welfare
 How are we go eat if we don't cheat
 These (?) bitch to me made the game out of young black niggas lives
 Striking us out from left to right
 With no motherfucking one in sight
 Fuck that!!
 Sell your dope
 Get your jack on, get your sack on,
 put your rag on and get your motherfucking thang on, niggas
 Cause it's on
 God dammit it's on
 Now what the hell you bout to go youngster
 [The Gang (Tray Deee, Ty Cuzz, Bad A$$, Technique)]
 Go ride nigga
 Bout to go get the homies nigga, right now
 [Daz] Oh yeah motherfucker it's on
 [The Gang]
 Ay come on Bad A$$ let's do it nigga, it's on now nigga
 Ay ay nigga
 What's up nigga (What's up)
 Ay nigga
 Nigga the homie called, the big shot today nigga (Word)
 Nigga you were ment to meet him today nigga
 (Man I take my baby inside today man)
 What's up
 Nigga
 Nigga, Ay, We can't realy talk right now tough nigga (Alright)
 But uh, it's going down later on 9-30 nigga
 The big man hoe nigga
 Be there nigga
 Yeah
 [Bad A$$ ]What's up Daz Dillinger
 [Daz] Shit, Bad A$$, tryin' to keep it realer than real, man
 Least half these punk ass....
 motherfucking niggas around here bullshittin'
 The big spot nigga, ain't clockin' no dollar.
 [BA] Man I'm trying to have
 Man I ain't trying to go for shit
 [DD] Man you know my glock is hot
 (Eastside)
 Verse One: [Kurupt Tha Kingpin]
 I'm coming through your zone late night, shit
 Dogg Pound Gangsta to flame the light shit
 Cause I hold on,
 I'm 20 feet tall
 The biggest walkin' bill fuck around to get killed
 Get shoot
 Don't try to sneak a peak in my book
 (?Home at hose?) , overdose the thoughts when he look
 The forbidden
 The hittin' zone that I'm hitting
 Don't play with my intelligence nigga as the heat (?slittin'?)
 (?)
 So I only got two choices; loc me the blasin' bomb
 Vietnam
 I bring the pain rains no (?)
 Execution style is the shells from the heat veal
 Down to the ground like the rest of the dummies
 Just what the fuck you thinkin' try to play with my money
 It's nothing but the Dogg Pound Gangstas
 Mashes, verbal disasters, 38 stashes
 Verse Two: [Tray Deee]
 I arise in disguise to surprise that ass
 What you thought you caught me short
 I might ride to blast
 With the canna
 We let the shit all up in your nuts
 When niggas droppin', they stop with the plan they plots
 Got to stop for my gate
 With (?) of break
 Marked niggas caught in, they try to win and get sprayed
 Rip the gates
 Go flip the page to chapter three
 First groove, they fools can't come after me
 I mash to free,
 styles of catastrophe
 Ask for G
 A nigga best to answer me
 My rip long as the beach that I represent
 Dead nigga with my stare not to step to this
 Verse Three: [Daz Dillinger]
 Now o yeah Tray Deee
 I mean I see the whole plot
 Be on alert, niggas shot
 Anywhere under that nigga caught
 So drop the microphone on my own
 I shown to blown
 Away for these MC's with the sludge of a chrome
 I take the fang
 Down on my own lyrical name
 When the sees are changed ,
 when the storms and hurricanes
 Wide strand
 Spittin' rhymes, the beats so precise
 (?)
 skatin' on mics like ice
 Twice in the day
 I get drunk,
 (?) of plastic bags
 Sack in the truck
 because the rhyme as claim
 I shit buck like the doctor
 Coming through
 Bouncin' with the droptop
 Like gangstas chillin on the block
 Nah, we ain't worry for shit
 Got escape doors like Capone
 Whit chick your dick on my clip
 Forty-fives and nives
 Three-eighties and automatics
 Sniveling, coming through for you
 when your boys with some stats
 I got to have eleven to thrill of the drama
 Enthusing me to gets my norm with the slaughter
 Ought to be known as Daz Dillinger
 For the shit that I known for
 A Dogg Pound criminal
 Verse Four: [Soopafly]
 Now if the spot's hot
 I hit the switch make the topdrop
 Don't stop
 It's Soopafly with the sho shot
 Won't stop
 I got ya whole shit to
 Look and listen
 I rendition the rhymes with precision
 You can't face
 Amaze me a place like a saddle
 It's Dogg Pound Ganstas (?) like a shadow
 I never met a motherfucker who can make you stick
 I never met a motherfucker who can feel my clique
 You serve, you'll make the twitch like a nerve
 You'll try to step to my wild style seperve
 Adjective the verve
 Action pack with the words
 I'll make it stop
 The jaws drop and observe
 I sold the block for Crook, Daz, Style and Tray Deee
 We be coming with the shit
 That be the bomb baby
 And ain't a Dogg Pound Gangsta will knock you to the flow
 Either you stupid as fuck or just don't know
 Verse Five: [Bad A$$]
 Now I know you, know you,
 stupid as fuck
 Cock, bust like a sawed off punk,
 double barrel on 'em
 Black gambinos at casinos
 Get De Niro on 'em
 If I want 'em
 I go get 'em
 If I gotta shot a nine
 Twice, that's what I rhyme like
 My clip ain't empty
 Do try to test the ridah
 Nativity simply
 Bust, I lead inside ya
 Find ya
 Fear them, frightened for your life
 With your last few
 Live with hot live from gunblast
 Outlaws, outcast
 Low life, south last
 Long Beach niggas blast
 Yeah the b-side is right
 The most, the coast
 The west, the best
 We damn bitches
 Sippin', hittin' switches
 Dippin' hittin' robbin' niggas
 Itchy fingers on triggers
 Itty, bitty niggas
 Ready for war
 We kick down your door
 Draw eatin'
 Lay everybody down on the floor
 Verse Six: [Technique]
 The same thing, different place
 With snakes, cowards and strong grown
 Robbery cases, niggas faces
 On paperchase
 It was seen, it was written
 It ain't forbidden
 For homies to be splittin'
 Disagree, no one was hitten
 Known with the curls
 The many obstacles
 Impressions to the feet from gettin' served
 Growing up is rough
 Your name
 Here's the streets it gets tough
 You can (?) and (?)
 Then I guess you had enough
 Over (?)
 It ain't coincidental that I be distorted
 And my manual
 Minds
 Is for seein', so I watch
 Bodies and plots
 Win the plots
 Call the shots for your nuts
 Nigga grips
 That's why I (?) my dippin' progress
 Cause why is all we tryin' to defeat the progress
 I just ain't the one mystic to hit
 Young Jonesy sees
 Who I got a mission to hit
 And constantly flips scripts
 Outta wall with balls fast talkin'
 And quick draws
 How the problem is solved
 I want it all (I want it all)
 But it's movin' to slow
 I'm out to blow
 I don't know which way to go,
 was on the right path
 I thought
 Without doin' a dirty word about getting caught
 ("getting caught" echoes
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Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: Death Row Records (2)

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1998

Taal: Engels

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