Big Pokey & Chris Ward

Big Pokey & Chris Ward - Go,go,go songtekst

Je score:
  

 





(feat. H.A.W.K. & Mike D)


[Hook x2:]

One, if you got skills then show it

Two, the time is now so don't blow it

Three, you say you're fire then spit your flow

Nigga go nigga go, nigga go nigga go


[Chris Ward:]

Flow sick, they'll make daddy's little daughter hurl

Hard enough, to make a 25 cent quarter curl

Fire flames I spit, I burn down water world

Oops my bad, I think just burned down Water World

I'm a hard working man, with soft hands

Cause I move a bit of that hard work, in soft sand

I got ties to the streets, both the North and South land

How many times have you seen me, running my mouth man

I'm a hella-a-fied soloist, bonified vocalist

Iced out Rolo-list, when I rap the booth know I'm pissed

I can't lie I'm thoed at this, and unpredictable

Like Mystikal in 9-7, boys call me Crystikal

Ha-ha-ha, hol' up Crystikal Ward

(that boy thoed), uh

Catch me hopping out of something, slamming suicidal do's

Anytime any place, spitting suicidal flows

C. Ward the spokesman, that's the title I hold

I'm deep in these streets nigga, like gutters and pot holes


[Hook x2]


[H.A.W.K.:]

Yeah who, nigga it's H-A-Dub

Buck shot slugs, Dead End thug

To whom it may concern, nigga it's my turn

You boys gon learn, when H.A.W.K. spit it's burn baby burn

I'ma go nigga go, or I'ma wreck your flow

Checkmate hoe, then X you out like tic-tac-toe

I'll steal the show, make motherfuckers want some mo'

For a mill or mo', I'll send one through your afro

The flow is figga fo', so surrender hoe

I'm a gladiator bitch, like Russell Crowe

And now you know, I spit thangs for my lil' bro

And the object of the game, is to get that do'

I ain't lying, the metaphors are death defying

There's no denying, I was born with the heart of a lion

Keep on trying, you could compete with this verbal assault

And you're gonna feel the wrath, of Incredible H.A.W.K.


[Hook x2]


[Mike D:]

I don't know, what made these devils give me a F-I

I can't keep my hands, off them birds that don't fly

Just left the Penn, where birds they don't fly

Corle's back home, and daddy I'm on fire

And I keep's me, a heater for cheaters

With rhymes, that'll run right through your wife beater

Suddenly catch me, in a Benz two seater

Riding with a long hair, Spanish speaking senorita

Don't get managed, and make 'em skeet your needle

I got killers in the booth, that'll snatch you out your sneakers

I'm telling you boy, I'm above the law

Ain't been out sixty days, it's like oh my God

I'm already stunting, whipping out boys

Lac in the drive way, sitting on yard

Really got at me, hit me with a quad

This can't be reality, no sir boy


[Big Pokey:]

Last it up, come from my hip ass is fucked

Three inches above your waist, tear your gut

My barrel is up, beam on you one in the head

I yank triggas on punk niggaz, and put 'em to bed

This for my FED niggaz, all my living and my dead niggaz

Scared niggaz, they raping the box

Trying to spread with a nigga, but he raping the pot

Next you gon be hanging his drawas, and drying 'em out

I'd rather get shot, caught slipping vest at the crib

Hit in the arms, trying to block my chest and my ribs

Testing my skills, that's just like testing my steal

I'm in the booth acting a donkey, and blessing the real

It's a crock bull loose, and he roaming the street

Last week meat in his teeth, clutching his gat

Man ever pissed, cause his stomach touching his back

We fin's to do this hoe, like we did it down in Iraq

Nigga for stacks, house is full of mili's and macks

Watching the playoffs dog, that's how gorillas relax

Gorillas react, on sight see it and merk it

Catch a square with a line, on this turf and working

I nerf'd him, skip flagged ball and turfed him

Formed M-O-B dog, and it all was worth it


[Hook x2]


Nigga go nigga go, nigga go nigga go
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Taal: Engels

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