Mr. Serv On

Mr. Serv On - Strap Up songtekst

Je score:


[Mr. Serv On]

I like to get that wild thing, street or city.

Huh? What ya'll bout?

Huh? What you bout?



You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit



Ya'll niggas call your self killas, 

but ya'll don't know the fuck a killa is

Oh I represent my block and I don't give a fuck about his

I done been in the Bronx with Fat Joe and Big Pun,

and ain't no bitches on theirs

And I done roll through Watts where the mutherfucka killin

And never motherfuckin stop

Or in St. Louis, where a nigga break your muthafuckin' neck 

and step in your chest nigga that's what the fuck I call respect

They ask me why the fuck I write these type of words

Go to Memphis nigga and ask every nigga

Why the fuck you steal so many quarter birds on the curb

Better yet, go to Chi Town and ask every nigga in the Y 100's

Friend Town or Madison Ave.,  why the fuck they wanna put they pistol down

Cause we soldiers nigga, with out a fuckin life

And I don't give a fuck what city your from, 

nigga put em up cause it's on tonight



Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Houston, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Dallas, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Atlanta, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Miami, and I don't like ya



You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit



[Fiend]

I, from the gumbo, where some for, smoke till they humble

And when we rumble, and tumble, we strap till the sun go

Ratta tatta pow, on my gun go, learned it from my uncle

Get more then one shottie, maybe bout a trunk full

Our love goes, duckin po po's, hoes on the go go

Takin no no's, don't let the eyes close, with seven zeros

Gotta hero, and sista, me, and only me

Combat ready from the midwest to the California streets

Nigga's that only take the heat, bring loud and foster beats

Florida, Chi Town, to the Magnolia Leaf

If you wanna keep your teeth, and have respect when you speak

Represent your clothes and war thats hard as me



[Mr. Serv-On]

Strap up my tennis shoes, get choppers

Bitch I'm from Baton Rouge, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Louisville, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Birmingham, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Mississippi, and I don't like ya



You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit

You bout some gangsta shit, I'm bout some gangsta shit

They bout some gangsta shit, we bout some gangsta shit



Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers

Bitch I'm from Streetport, and I don't like ya

Strap up my tennis shoes, get my choppers
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

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