The Beatnuts

The Beatnuts - 2-3 Break songtekst

Je score:
(feat. Gab)

[Psycho Les]

People call me the drunk, off the thick funk

Just to prove I'm ?luida? bag your whole start like ?meshuda?

Click back, put a hollow point cap in your temple

We get caught, it's strictly mental

A stone crook, I don't go by the book

You can't fool me with your gangsta look

I've truncated ??? on my turf for wet pay

When I roll a blunt, they'd better roll away

Out, and don't try talking bold

Cause I'll smack you with a bat just like "Walking Tall"

What? You punk, who's gonna defend you?

When I bumrush your ass and stick an icepick in you

Quick, your bitch caught a splinter from my dick

Cause she gave me a woodie in the parking lot behind Mc-

Donald's, the bed slammer again stick 'em both

With my king-size dick, and Donna King sized hand again

[gunshot] "2, 3, Break!"


I go so much of this style coming from my lips while

Washed-up ducks get dumped in motherfucking shit piles

Bang, I got my own thang, gang ain't a proper

Drop a, hollow-point shelly on a copper

Let 'em fucking know who's Kool where I'm coming from

Slept for a while on my style now I'm stunning 'em

Bagging 'em, plus I hit their hoes in the mean

Cause all I ever want is fame, bitches, and the green

Seen crazy niggas get lost in the shuffle

With dreams turned to rubble then bust like a bubble

Ta-dow, now, that's how it's falling

Whether I'm hitting skins or motherfucking ballin

Hanging with my crew on the Peakskill plain

I throw my shit when laying a bitch so get off my dick

Trick, you know my style, no it ain't no use

Cause I keep your hoes wet like a fucking douche

[gunshot] "2, 3, Break!"


Taking 'em out, no hass, I be the owner of my rhymes

Will make niggas collapse into a coma

Product of a concrete hell, I'm on a mission

Deadly with intent to shell the opposition

Fucking with this flow, come on, yo that's treason

Niggas fuck around and get shot for no reason

Junkyard nigga, represent everytime

Corona's in the house and yo Gab!

(Bust and rip the skills!)


My rhymes wake up to a 9.4, ready for war

Come up, I false my fronts with your spinal chord

Before I got the drive, I possess and tox

And I'm trying to survive under a cyanide landslide

But that ain't nothing like a penny anymore

Cause I assault niggas who couldn't launch shit with catapaults

So if you ever hear the name Gab One

Don't even sweat it, the worst hasn't even begun


Word up, it's like that, Beatnus, Triflicts in the house, kid

19, and one, you know what I'm saying? Word
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Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?


Taal: Engels

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