Capone-N-Noreaga

Capone-N-Noreaga - Noreaga Drivers Seat songtekst

Je score:

(Killer B, yeah, rest in peace, I'm sayin son
 Ain't no room in this game for everybody, you know?
 But uh, we gon' do our thing baby, we gon' do our thing)

 [Iman T.H.U.G.]
 Yo, Iman T.H.U.G. something stunnin, rappers get done in
 I migrate, Queens Jamaica, Brooklyn gets sunning
 All feelings though, we all grow wit this ?buckle?
 I recognized life is a deal, cards and a shuffle
 Everything revolves around me, I couldn't see that
 25 to Life and hip-hop, you got the feedback
 Who need that, hundred gram stashed up in the cheese stack
 We fo' black, want more trip, we get that old back
 And keep this world high, yearly raw supply
 These fuckin tracks have a nigga feelin wide inside
 Any bottle-tip high smokin lah in the rye
 It's on you, if you wanna take heed the hidden treasure
 Recognize it's Iman T.H.U.G. wit Noreaga
 Recognize that 2-5 shine'll last forever
 Embedded in your mind like the seams in butter leathers
 Butter leathers, check it yo yo yo

 Chorus 2x
 I keep it real wit a nigga keep it real wit me
 I cut the hand off a nigga tryin steal from me
 2-5 be that bomb-diggy bomb you see
 Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat

 [Noreaga]
 I keep it real wit a bitch that keep it real wit me
 Cut the hand off a chicken tryin steal from me
 CNN be that bomb-diggy bomb you see
 Now it's Nore now in the fuckin driver's seat
 Yo I shot rapid, burn weed inside a back quick
 Iraq embassy need a straitjacket
 Yo let's rachateer this, while most niggas'll fear this
 Turn my shit down everytime they hear it
 P-H-D me, rapidly right in back of me
 Tackle me, them niggas make loot but only half of me
 My faculty, blow holes in your Moschinos and tuxedos
 While all y'all niggas free-load, reload
 Explode on, roll on, fold on, Ghengis Khan
 Dusk till dawn Art of War
 Still time to score, yo we kid we poly for
 Yo Victoria's Secret bitches that suck dick raw
 The freak, Rick James type, I got the long pipe
 Kick doors in, snake four-fours in
 Yo escape the Nor-van, swervin, TV's inside Suburban
 Iraq dishieke, diamond cut pinky
 Listen to Trag shit wit Noyd and Chinky
 Network like the internet, wit Henny wet
 Nine-oh be my set, so whatever be next
 Nashiem, he laced this beat on some east coast shit

 I keep it real wit a bitch that keep it real wit me
 Cut the hand off a chicken tryin steal from me
 CNN be that bomb-diggy bomb you see
 Now it's Nore now in the fuckin driver's seat

 We overdose this, high class wit one E-Class
 Shorty came through, she iced out and dressed in blue
 Said she move from Brooklyn, reside in secion two
 Know how we do out here hoe, a two for square
 Get high, and disappear play the projects on super-low
 Plus she feelin my style, Too Hot like Coolio
 Plus her cooty though, bangin just like the studio
 From Iraq to Inglewood, it all good
 From hood to hood, regulate like a thug should
 Yo we in too deep, losin sleep and can't call it
 The game is still fresh until the jake try to spoil it
 Even people I was loyal wit, give my life to
 Be the first who turn around and try to spike
 Now they don't like you, sendin ten dogs to bite you

 [Iman T.H.U.G.] (Busta Rhymes)
 I keep it real wit a nigga (yo yo) keep it real wit me
 (We keep it real nigga) I cut the hand off a nigga tryin steal from me
 (CUT YA HAND OFF!! Fuck) 2-5 be that bomb-diggy bomb you see
 (WHAT!) Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (WHAT)
 (We keeps it real wit niggas who keep it real wit us)
 I keep it real wit a nigga keep it real wit me
 (Fuck, CUT YA HAND OFF) I cut the hand off a nigga tryin steal from me
 2-5 be that bomb-diggy bomb you see (WHAT!)
 Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (WHAT
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Taal: Engels

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