Come One, Come All (feat. Styles P) (исполнитель: Ill Bill)
[bad word] x 2] [bad word] one [bad word] all We can have a fistfight or a gun brawl We the niggas [bad word] see if you want raw If ain’t [bad word] hard, [bad word] [bad word] at all [Verse 1: Styles P] Niggas is garbage, understand disposal and waste The forty-five will probably take the nose off your face Hit him with the shotty from his shoulder to waist Kiss his mom, [bad word] on the body, that go’d to waste I’m colder than a January day with a needle The crackers that ran ? What I’m saying is I ain’t got regard for a human life Kid and the wife, the mother, and grandmother’s iced But only if you harm one of mine Other than that I’m calm with my palm on the nine Puffing on a dub in a dime in a dutch roll Fell in love with crime, do everything with gusto Trying to watch the stacks stack up in the black [bad word] Let a [bad word] act up, tear a [bad word] back up If I go to jail I’m like [bad word] it and throw the rack up I don’t like a [bad word] in the dorm he’d better pack up [bad word] x 2] [Verse 2: Ill Bill] Chewed em up, spit em out, call the coroner and get em out Carry the coffin to the hearse yo we spread em out La Coka Nostra, Billy Ocean appearance We grimy dope when your iced out chains near us Don’t make me have to [bad word] your girl and embarrass you Hit you with heat, homeboy see what the hammers do Front page news, million dollar camera crews Your fam there too, a tear drop falling on your grandma’s shoes We the wild bunch from east New York Creeps with swords chopping off your feets and arms Crazy eighty-eight’s above y’all like radio waves Wild like the funhouse back in the Danny Tario days We the most vulgar, act like my uncle when he’s coked up Or like a ? five in the soaker, so focused we the toast of the town The locs know us, don’t be mad, stay on top of your [bad word] Those hoes blow us [bad word] x 2] [Verse 3: Styles P] Yo all I need is a zip of kush, a soft brick to push four-fifth to bust, a full strip to [bad word] I’mma get money cause it’s a must I kick up dust when I ride through your block making the [bad word] blush I’m on that ride or die, stab you in your [bad word] eye Strictly aimed shots, I ain’t blasting for the [bad word] sky Who [bad word] when our shots from the pumper fly Sting like a killer bee, float like a butterfly Let the work float in the pot, watch the bubbles rise It could be December, I’ll make you feel summertime I’m on my [bad word] grind 24/7/365 [bad word] I die trying to get mine I keep the fifth palmed, seats in the whip reclined With a bad [bad word] she giving my [bad word] a spit shine you know what it is, you know what I do I put holes in your crew with the forty Calico and an U [bad word] [bad word] x 2]