Letras Dope Game 2000 - Big Pokey, Mike D

Dope Game 2000 - Big Pokey, Mike D
Información de la canción En esta página puedes encontrar la letra de la canción Dope Game 2000, artista - Big Pokey
Fecha de emisión: 25.06.2007
Idioma de la canción: inglés

Dope Game 2000

Tearing it up in this motherfucker, on the real\n2000, mixing it up, Chevis Camp, what\nH-Town is the place, and you better respect it\nWhere G’s get dissected, my corner’s infected\nTeflon bullet blockers, keep chest protected\nBitch niggas get crushed on, they vest neglected\nThese streets is hectic, I’m on top of my game\nNiggas ain’t waterproof, and I’m about to rain\nVerbal cocaine, now they calling me cheap\nThese gats I pack crack hats, to settle the beef\nI roll with big heaters, chrome body deleters\nThey turn packs of jackers, into sizzling fajitas\nAll bugs and mesquitos, get hit with the swallow\nTake it from me, big boss in DADA\nRun right through Nevada, move blast the zone\nYou can’t see me, with your glasses on\nMotorized stash spot, when I stash the chrome\nAnd if I have to pull it out, I’ma blast you homes\nYou better make room, duck we bust\nYou bitch niggas, don’t wanna fuck with us\nWe’ll get masked up, and we’ll rush your cut\nAnd even hoes get hit man, we’ll touch the slut\nYou never know what nigga, might want you dead\nThis is starving hitmen, a lot of niggas got bread\nCaught him myself, put one in his head\nGot away smooth, now I’m running from FED’s\nYou never know when I retaliate, coming in dark\nWas coward bitch nigga, that had no heart\nNow my gun gon spark, and the world won’t start\nUse to be associates, the streets split us apart\nSeparated like a divorce couple, the more troubles\nPotato over top of the nozzle, to make the sound muffle\nHave your town puzzled, nobody heard it\nNobody cried, nobody cared when you got murda’d\nYou just a average, I send slugs through your fabric\nPut him out his on my mathematics, I’ll let him have it\nYou know how my men play, Big E and Sensei\nI made hits with Pittsburgh, like Clemente\nOn the real G’s, flex with us\nWe sending cooked up compressed, to broke down to dust\nWhat good is a pie, if you can’t eat the crust\nAnd divide that motherfucker, between each of us\nSee a nigga like me, I’ma feed the fam\nAnd don’t give a damn, if it’s green eggs and ham\nBitch niggas get slammed, trying to take what’s mine\nI’m the nigga with the iron in front, aimed at your blind\nSide, it’s something foreign sitting wide\nPeeping, bout to let off and ride\nThat’s how it is, I’m just a nigga with mad skills\nKnock through the soundbox, ripping the mad real\nIt’s states was at Bailor’s gates, and mad bills\nMad deals, eleven hundred with glass wheels\nNow we hitters off the lot, as is\nChevis Camp, looking like the damn deal\n(*talking*)\nWatch that bitch cause we’ll touch the slut, for real\nChevis in this motherfucker repping fo' life\nSaid that, meant that, represent that, know I’m talking bout\nMe and that fucking it up for this 2K, it’s too serious baby\nWe’ll touch the slut, cause on the real, watch out

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