Cappadonna

Cappadonna - War Rats songtekst

Je score:

[Verse 1]

Less seen and less heard, It's the pillage

live where we die for trade, orphans of the industry, rise up against

pretense, DJ's of segregation come together plottin' on the Nation

cats got the puff powder dance

underground economics, take a chance at the crackpot

speak at the ones on top

at the gay bar your best rap star caught not keepin' it real

whats the deal wit' ya'll wanna be MC's when Ghost hit you

the struggle is official with this

chill 'cause we don't mix wit' yall uncle Tomers

we rock those real black leather bombers

for real, Park Hill not Beverly Hills

ya'll better be still

my brains come out of my ball pen for my origin

I put the work in, any predictament

in fact it don't matter to me

the rap Oprah Winfrey with less currency

but rock beautifully, no security with me

hard times and prophecy

one idea, two children and three for virginity

pure energy whenever you confront me

I'ma take yours, star wars. 



[Chorus]

Star Wars, storm troopers, evil rulers

New manuevers, Black German Luger laser beam



[repeat Chorus]



[Verse 2]

The tables turned now, enter Shaolin where it's cold now

let the Teck blow now

more Jungle nails, Parkhillbillies pour gas on Phillies

blocks where the Babies pick locks

and Women make love to other Women

it's the pillage, your Mother's Sons

no more cold war, it be the poor ones

no radio play, from the hallway to the doorway

they banned us, cease to understand us

rap criminals segregated, player hated

underrated, project recipients

Cappadonna, bag with the marijuana

I'm a late-comer, I spread love last Summer

photographs with the Hummer

a young dumber, bound to get dumber

I speak the real CB, pillage monopoly

talk a XYZ, ain't nothin' like WB

O.T.F., a bag of Uno Sixty

I love how the weed get me

see me whole style tricky

gats under the table, the tables turn now

life is too short and too foul

fake Brothers will get exiled

Staten Island style, chicka-Pow!



[Chorus x2]



[Verse 3]

I drop paragraphs of information

my mind starts racin'

I'm in the lot dancin' with the hard-headed

I start to attack on every track when I react

dancehall style, ain't nothin' nice

I came to regulate, Cappachino the great

comin' from all sorts of angles

I close in, my team be the chosen

authorized like a hat tucked in

you get sucked in, catch a repurcussion and crushed in

paralyzed, open your eyes, it's us again

O.T.F. hit you like the blow of death

pulled while you was 'sleep

with or without the gold teeth

crunch and lounge, Q guardin' the door

it's like Comstock, we in the Belly similar to clock

Boys to Men buildin', in the street

Oatmeal and Cream of Wheat

thugs smoke leek, it's like the penile in the ghetto

Palmetto, chocolate trees, crying Babies

rabies to the ringworm, take a turn and get burned

tryin' to be this, realness

Shaolin barracks is very high tempered

sensed it in the water sorrounded by the fairy boats

hallways with pissy cut throats

we forever live, gotta protect the orphanage

the beast men, learn to fight back with the poilcemen

Star Wars...Star Wars. 



[Chorus x3]
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Taal: Engels

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