D.I.T.C.

D.I.T.C. - Themes Dreams And Schemes songtekst

Je score:

[O.C.]
 Even if the Chosen One's frozen  inside ice
 I still rise like the spirit of Christ  it's all right
 I'm a let you niggas know I'm still nice
 With this voicebox made of gold  larynx priceless
 What the fuck y'all niggas thought?
 I done seen niggas sold and bought for what my ancestors fought
 Was taught to drop Jewelz (Word life!)
 You will respect mines or else feel the fragments of gunshot shells
 I will rock well for the rest of my days on this God-forsaken planet
 Splitting niggas wigs like I'm slamming 'em on granite
 Niggas can't manage whether Jamacian, Hatian
 Dominican, white, or Spanish
 Fuck all that freestyle shit, I think shit out
 If it's coming from the top, make sense of what you're talking about

 [A.G.]
 The E&J got me wetter than a nigga hit with a nine Beretta
 Your rhymes is dope, but mines is better
 Let us divide this cheddar, O.C. and us three
 Tighter than niggas that did time together
 It's only right we shine together
 I'm a rhyme forever, while you the worst
 I see it now: I'll be an old cat with a fat verse
 Unless these streets get me first, want a few mil
 But y'all can never give me what I'm worth, we got the flavas
 I'm whipping honey shit, the cherry Blazer, my pen is real
 You feel the blood touch the paper, cause now I know it
 And I'm a blow it like I knew it for years
 Like my peers through childhood
 Was a wild hood, did anything a broke black child could
 Even robbing and stealing, but that's not foul, that's the hood
 Even money knew it when he cracked a smile and passed the goods

 Ayo the theme is to stay sick and have 'em fiend
 The dream is to make hits and stack cream
 The scheme is to get that cash for new trucks
 Ass at the bar for us to scoop up
 The beam, infrared on you, beamed up
 Come out the club, spill bub and scream "What?"
 D.I.T.C. and G.D. teamed up
 Bases loaded, the place exploded, we cleaned up

 [D-Flow]
 Ayo I touch pistol, shine like crushed crystal
 Fuck what I sift through, insane in your membrane
 These cuffs I slip through, when I bust, trust I won't miss you
 A killer like Kam, I send your whole fam with you
 Addicted to Dro, sipping on Mo
 Tell you if you didn't know, G.D. be ripping the globe
 Whipping the Range Rove, dough will never change Flow
 If you lyrical I'll cripple you, that's how the game go
 Get the fuck out of here with your plain hoe and small chips
 We all rich, only players score more than six
 Gorgeous chicks, quarter licks, blow a pound before we started
 It was more than this, hold it down
 Keep my head up, for ignorant niggas around me
 Front on my fam, son, better dose is what you tell me
 I keep it tight, you weak when you write
 And get beat, you light player
 It's the flavor I save for your neighbor
 My niggas died for this money and I'm a try for this
 Gotta cock the six, spit shots, shit, and drop hits
 We be the Bronx's finest, honeys got to rewind this
 G.D. and D.I. shit, now change the topic

 [Party Arty]
 Yo fuck a Bently, I push a Benzi 500
 Like the Indy, got too many Benjis to be stingy
 Skin complexion of a penny, skip the Henny
 Hit the Remi, spit the semi-automatic at anyone that static
 It's Party Arty, cardy with premium
 Trust me, for us three, I bust three
 Triple teaming 'em, Show & A.G. and 'em
 Without a doubt G.D. and 'em
 Bout it, bout it like Master P and 'em
 It's the machette swinger, I got plans to fuck every singer
 I already bring the ruck like Jerry Springer
 Bless it, for refreshment, I'm a senior
 Felony charges, y'all niggas is misdomeanor
 Like when I first shot the milli, or when I first copped the philly
 Ace Buchanan, a.k.a. Poppa Willy
 Flows knock you silly, rock above you when it's chilly
 Show love when the hoes jock to grill me, fill me
 The rasta in me make me wanna kick shit like I was socked silly
 I'm not the Willy to fuck with
 Cocked the milli on some rough shit, you want it, it's yours
 Get lost, cause y'all cats don't want to brawl with the big dogs

 Ayo the theme is to stay sick and have 'em fiend
 The dream is to make hits and stack cream
 The scheme is to get that cash for new trucks
 Ass at the bar for us to scoop up
 The beam, infrared on you, beamed up
 Come out the club, spill bub and scream "What?"
 D.I.T.C. and G.D. teamed up
 Bases loaded, the place exploded, we cleaned up
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Taal: Engels

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