Master P

Master P - I'M A Gangsta songtekst

Je score:
























Why you lean when you walk, look mean when you talk

Keep that green in the vault -- we some gangsters nigga

White tees on the block, 23's on the drop

And you keep them thangs cocked -- cause we some gangsters nigga





My lifestyle gangster, I'm from the gutter, the bottom nigga

I learned the game but it wasn't from Godfather





Pop'll slide up beside ya nigga, take ya block nice

My neighborhood like I'm Mr. Rogers, nigga





Nigga here to "Lean Back," but you know I'm not Joey nigga

I give you work, better pay me what you owe me nigga





Befo' a nigga expose the trigger

And have you mobbin it like you gone off of 'dro and liquor





I'm a bonafide hustler, certified gangster

Wile E. Coyote keep one up in the chamber





To bang your frame up, hot thang rearranger

My pistol pointin at niggaz like Mystikal, "DANGER!"

And momma told me not to talk to strangers

So I let the heat speak out and bark to strangers

I got that Doublemint heat, how I pack two thangs

And red hot, now let the Black Sopranos spend knot









It ain't hard to tell, you know I get cake

The sound system in my six-fo' sound like I kidnapped a earthquake

The Jakes want me off the road

Cause I got enough bricks to land me in jail without parole

Don't fold under pressure, I don't even do my own dirt

I got connects with the mob out in Russia

I'll rush ya, blast the 8, fuck bein grimy

I'm too cute to get a scar on my face

I spend cake like a fashionable dude

Catch me, G'd up, in a P. Miller khaki suit

It's No Limit how I'm movin these pies

The Chuck Taylor patent leather, with a pic of Eazy-E on the side

I'ma ride, fuck tuckin my jewels and the chain

Got a cross, that's brighter than a Harvard student

I'm improvin, gettin better

Took off the chinchilla I'm in mink like a smooth guerilla









Okay, the definition of a GANGSTER, mouth closed

Guns out, clip loaded, aim lock shots bang ya

Never serve shit to a stranger

Undercovers comin in for arrangers, watch for the danger

Watch for them haters they filled with anger

They try to steal your shine if they can't steal your paper

Niggaz mad cause the kid doin it major

I'm gunnin for the top, gun cocked with the laser





They call me young Rug', yeah that's my name

I do work for P. Miller, No Limit the game

You C-Murder on the block, it's the Soldiers mayne

Black Sopranos leave you slumped in the car of your dreams

And my location, I'm in the Cali breeze

Smokin on that good, no stems no seeds

I lay low with the baddest brawl

I got a record deal but the hood still breakin me off
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Taal: Engels

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