Frankie Cutlass

Frankie Cutlass - Games songtekst

Je score:
Hook:
 Games people play (I wanna know)
 Games people play (why the brothers be playin' them games)
 Verse 1:
 Here comes the man of the hour
 Never catch me fuckin' with cowards
 Rock men from Thug Life to High Powered
 Blazin' trees Chinese chicks to Lebanize
 Across seas me and Big Frank be pickin' up keys
 Sieze the opportunity to freeze MCs
 Recognize who be gettin' that cheese please
 I see you watchin' me like Whitenour
 You gettin' power
 Chickens gassin' you thinkin' your clique is as big as ours
 Long time no beef on the streets
 Ain't nothing sweet I still walk around packin' heat
 You pose no threat you get yourself soakin' wet
 Vibes from the mac and the tech
 And what we be doin' chumps uptown we call them push ups
 Pushed about a thousand grills shit is real (yeah)
 I leave no evidence cat's ain't been heard from ever since
 And officer, those ain't my fingerprints
 Down low I'm scary slide to the back of this
 City-O cash flow is miraculous
 Mark what I say somebodys got to pay
 My clique walk around sick like Doc Holiday
 Hook (x2)
 Niggas got a lot of games
 Verse 2:
 A-yo blaze something quick
 So recognize who ya fuckin' with
 I'm gettin' bricks runnin' with Colombians
 While you punk motherfuckers starve on a block
 I'm drivin' around spots gettin' mad props
 Fuck standin' on the ave gettin' cash (what?)
 That's all in the past I graduated fromt he class (yeah)
 Every thug get a chance to be the man
 I got mines and now this nigga's pissin' in they pants (ha ha)
 They scared to death they know it's real here
 I murder niggas if not I have them rollin' in a wheel chair
 I dare a nigga to step up i bet his t-shirt his sweater
 Have holes from my nine beretta
 I'm not the one for the postin' up shit
 I toast you up quick I have you floatin' in the ocean
 I get down like that cause I have to in the Big Apple
 Many niggas try to cap you, for nothin'
 Niggas be frontin' for fame they don't know the game
 All they want to do is leave blood stains
 That's why I keep my gat cocked and steady
 Like Teddy I keep it on my waistline ready
 I'm deadly like Freddie Kruger but fuck the claws
 I'm strickly steppin' to ya niggas with the ruegers
 "I need my shit kid" that be rapidly repeated
 The more shots the more my enemy starts retreatin'
 So back the fuck up I'm blowin' niggas out the frame
 Maintain before you get a bullet in your brain
 I'm that insain nigga from the Money Makin'
 All you niggas fakin' I'm a leave your body shakin'
 Hook
 The streets ain't no game
 Rock City will let 'em know
 Verse 3:
 Now yo fuck the radio and fuck the airplay
 I'm strickly underground sayin' what I want to say
 It doesn't matter if I'm hurt or not
 I'm a wreck shop my way and still get props
 That's my word shit is gettin' real with these critics
 They always talk about a nigga lyrics
 I ain't tryin't to hear it
 Everyday the industry is gettin' realer
 Sort of like that crack shit being done by the dealer
 Brothers gettin' paid under the table
 Labels already knowin' who they want to be stable
 But fuck it I'm still gonna try to bring the ruckus
 I'm comin' through your town Ill Man with the Cutlass
 I saw a lot of niggas fail oh well
 They mad cause I'm everlasting like a Duracell
 Battery don't try to battle me
 My mentality is gettin' salaries is all reality
 Hook
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Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: Sony Music Canada

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1996

Taal: Engels

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