Kurupt

Kurupt - No Feelings songtekst

Je score:

Nigga I don't got no feelings
 What the fuck you think this is
 I got no reason to live
 So make your mind up  what you want to do
 I make your family be missing you

 Yo  dusting you off like dirty fingerprints on evidence
 Battling me  you dead like presidents
 I'm fresh like prince  jazzy like jeff
 The man just like Meth  crazy like Lep
 Plus jams just like Def
 With a pin I'm a king like Kurupt
 When I throw a style, you better duck
 And if you don't your ass is out of luck
 Don't fuck with the master if I have to
 Then I blast you, then go to Church and see my pastor
 Why you have to be like this, me and the mic's tight
 Like lettuce, lighting the pimps
 This year my son turned six
 If your style's wack then you need to get that shit fixed
 Brothers hittin Jersey, my raps hitting harder than bricks

 I'm iller, willer than your local drug dealer
 Come to my villa, meet the 9-milla
 Letting off, where I stop you getting off
 Make you feel it just like Latifah's kiss in Set It Off
 You want war come on, put on the boxing gloves
 People call me an artist on the canvas cuz I draw blood
 That's what's up with the shit I maneuver
 Hit the losers with a Lueger then lay up in Aruba
 I'm gonna be rappin till you muthafuckaz
 get sick of me on the M-I-C
 I'm sicker than ten niggaz with HIV
 Tracey, pack the chico, the freak though
 Holding heats and we're in wall street
 With Sloppy Joe, you feel me yo?

 Chorus:

 Uh what check it, my name is Steven
 I eat MC's for no apparent reason
 Better you if you skeezin, I'm pleasing
 Those who dare, I advise you not to stare
 You be ass out like a flat tire without a spare
 I declare war before I have to even a score
 You got me hot like sand on the shore
 I'm running the floor like a ballerina
 I go back like Flavor Flav and comb Adina
 I get honeys to make you say "You seen her?"

 I'm pregnant but only in my mind
 Hopin my baby rhyme grows to be a triple platinum album
 A felon, using the steel to do crimes
 Smoke so many niggaz they put up no smoking signs
 Charismatic, gasmatic, ballin like Madden
 Cream automatic, attractive like a magnet
 Speeding like car racing, cream like carnation
 Burn out my Playstation while cats be scarfacing
 Hey old lady sorry's all I can say
 My bills got me looking in pocket books in a different way
 Foxy in the boulevard Benzo
 I'm in the back of Kurupt's flex truck playin 64 Nintendo

 Kurupt:
 Gettin pealed, skills and it feels
 Raw doggs, raw deals, niggaz either ill, fake, or real
 Penetrates, own the 10's and 38's
 Ridahs and niggaz turn the states and flippin crates
 Get lift like weights, bust and radiates
 Spreading infection, murderous mafia connections
 I want it felt, touch life's villains
 Start drilling, start ampin out
 Hitting them with autos campin out
 With autos innovative, calculative, creative
 Touch a nigga, hectic, with a couple of seconds to bust nigga
 From a distance, I could peep a fuck up
 You want to have but nuttin but cash to get stuck up
 Man I'm diamonds, yo, God is nice
 Hot, never seen cats with so much ice
 I got blocks to get all that's got behind the scenes
 Sellin glocks, tech 9's, 16's and magazines
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: A&M Records

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1998

Taal: Engels

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden