Текст песни Reks - All In One

Midnight Club LA - OST [CD2]
Жанр: Alternative Rock / OST
Исполнитель: Reks
Альбом: Midnight Club LA - OST [CD2]
Длительность: 03:42
Рейтинг: 576
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Tkey


[Lil' Fame] Let's take it back to that real hip hop shit Bring back. . . the spirit of Pac, Biggie, Pun, Big L All in one I introduce y’all to my nigga: Reks! Come on! [Reks] This is historic rhetoric from the one R-E-K-S Reborn through legends, giving a new breath to lungs Spirit of Pun, L, Big, Makaveli the Don (Lil' Fame: The flow timeless, salute to 5 hands!) To hip hop honors greats too late So on this tape I recreate what heaven took from us Passion of Pac, the swag of anything Biggie drop Big L’s non-stop shit on you talk And Big Pun with the deli delivery that’ll lyrically Top Super Lyrical, Ebonics I’m giving you Kick in the Door, this Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z Who listen to the greatest to write on 5 mics (Lil' Fame: This is a representation of warriors monumental, follow me Set it off for Pac!) The revolution is on in this song, so holla Westside (Feel me!) Pac’s like definition of a thug nigga that’s right And to my enemies, get down on your knees ‘Cause if it’s beef we gon’ ride, Hail Mary! If there’s a heaven for a G, picture me sippin’ Hennessy with B.I.G, Pun, L and Pac (ha-ha) Up on the clouds on the block looking down Mama smile I know you proud of me now I’m a O.G.! And to my homies don’t cry ‘cos we do or die pour a little O.E (Yeah nigga!) Fuck the police! (fuck all y’all), on these streets It’s Me Against the World, M.O.P (Blow it up for Biggie Smalls) The glorious Notorious, (Brooklyn nigga!) Dead on trigger, (lift ya) May you rest in pieces, your entourage tour with Jesus, Gucci fly Mafioso Don with the Bad Boy logo, palm grippin' the Dom Pérignon (what) Moschino buying, private jet flying I’m like the black Frank White, ‘cause my game’s tight (right) Brands and spokesmen strolling and get a bitch open Hopin' I’ma hit her with the Trojan Keep a box by the Glock on the dresser Lifestyles to apply pressure, baby baby (BX! Salute to Big Pun, come on. . .) Punisher's ready, I got the machete in a Chevy With the pistol as heavy as Heavy D, lyrics heavenly Metaphors and melodies show you how to be a player like Bill Bellamy (ah shit) My niggas known for felonies Boogie Down New York the ground that I walk Find you in the dark surround you with hawks Act like you in charge (yo yo yo) Terror is the squad, I’m a lethal mathematician Adding up the cash, you're fishing Rappers missing, poetry that so proficient Known as the dopest written, vocal spitting Rolling with the Puerto Rican coalition All the focus missing, ¡pana! You can't match my grammar, Scarface face like Montana Test Pun and miss the manana (We ‘bout to take it uptown, Harlem world, Big L, salute!) Big L was D.I.T.C.'s truest Been between more sheets than Klu Klux Your rapper Big L would give two fucks Ya ho love me too much Never seen her grill without my two nuts American gangster, Frank Lucas You got the "how could he?" bling I rock the "what's poppin' now?" ring Money longer than Yao Ming The Harlem City cat, with the hard gritty raps You be all yappity-yap, my dogs really clap I’ve got the fly gear and I like to fly Lears All across states got your bitch payin’ my fares Chill with the idea anybody compares Nobody comes near, Big L, oh yeah [Lil' Fame] What up, what up Statik Selektah, show off, show off Their nigga Reks, their nigga Reks, their nigga Reks Show off, show off yeah Blaze P, Blaze P, Blaze P Show off, show off Ya nigga Fame, Ya nigga Fame, nigga Fame Show off, show off To the homies ride with me, look for my shit soon yeah
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