Saafir

Saafir - Playa Hayta songtekst

Je score:

Ya with my brain
 I'm the editor in chief
 The leaf a rap a dope shit  antique
 Rope kits for the hang time  a
 heinous crime
 'Cause I drain his mind. Open it up
 oh...not
 The same as mine  not the same ass
 rhyme
 Nickel plated statements with nickel
 plated
 Knuckle faded faces. No matter what
 the Race is I hope ya cockpit got shit
 I stock
 Hits. Inventory glorious. I owe me this
 I'm on my homies shit - the homeless
 shown
 This skill is real when I attack from
 the
 Back I'll say a rhyme then pull your
 spinal
 Cord from your torso, more so or
 better
 Yet more or less it's not an option
 I'm coppin'
 A plea seizing a shop and hopin' a
 cop's
 A blow of the past. If not, I'll be
 blowin'
 His ass away. J. Groove is on the cross, I'm
 The heavyweight fader of a playa
 hayta

 Analysis is deep, forever on the peep
 and I'm
 The best, the crest of the ho shit...
 yeah,
 You can't manifest destiny unless it's
 me
 Oh, you don't approve of my moves
 but I'm not
 Starvin' for jargon, so save it.
 My libido is
 The needle to the wax, I like to tax in
 Gazebos, surviving like a mac king,
 clever
 Never lacking when I'm stacking
 endeavors
 I try and try to tell fools, that I've been
 Through hell and my tools ain't the same
 As yours. Coors Light that's what
 they're
 Drinkin', must be I'm wrong yours is
 right
 That's why you're sinkin' in your own
 sight
 Nose is in my business, witnessin'
 your
 Own fate, drownin' in your own lake
 of hate
 But I don't see no abstinent crabs in it
 Perverse perpin' after the salt I can
 hear the rehearsal of a serpent,
 urgent
 'Cause you don't use your head when
 you
 Shed skin - dead end...for a playa
 hayta

 Charades, are played but I keep
 getting it in
 Large amounts because I be doin'
 these Hoogies' charge account like a banker
 I'm patient and I be waiting like an
 anchor
 To spank her. Then I get the softy
 sanka
 Coffee drinkin' breath stinkin'
 cheddar cheese
 Eatin' wheat germ, checker board
 pants
 Wearin' can't dance, and you're starin' in
 My grill. But you had a steak
 a nervous
 Twitch and you're a badly fake and I
 heard
 His bitch is gettin' around like Tupac
 Servin' niggas two at a time like she
 got
 Two cocks. New blocks she be conquering
 Zip codes, I rip ho's that be lappin' up
 Mark ass lames then charge it to the
 Game. So he next time you step to
 me
 Like a defense attorney, Ha!...I'll
 fade ya
 'Cause you're a playa hayta.

 From a real playa ' cause I play the
 game
 The same, not behind no dame, so
 you
 Can get these thangs
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: James Carson, Reggie Gibson

Componist: ?

Publisher: Qwest Records

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1994

Taal: Engels

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