Testi:
Beat Maker Beat

Припев: Это не баллада, ладно, это панихида По нашему обгашенному, пропитому миру Где жизнь стала тиром, а люди стадом Сиди смирно и делай все как надо

hate Forever never slippin naw pimpin we straight What it do, the bets back, the checks fat, the track tight We funna cook a fresh batch Money maker,

tecs on your neck And give you permanent hickies Leave you in lakes like Ricky Think that I was distributing whisky The way niggas be riding on me tipsy The rhyme chief maker

eyes, can you sew them shut? Jesus Christ, deny your maker He who tries, will be wasted Feed my eyes now you?ve sewn them shut I?m the dog who gets beat

die or either hide out I got you glowin' and I'm squeezin' like Darth Vader And I'm hopin' now that I can introduce you to your maker. All it takes is

Had no mother's hand to hold It was a labor of pain It was a cold sky above But for the girl on the ground in the dark With every beat of her beautiful

corner slow pacin' No destination, it's up North a nigga facin' CHORUS: Panama P.I. If we all gonna die, I'm prepared to meet my maker But before I touch

living And some good music played And some good loving made I like it I like it just that way I wanna roll roll roll forever I wanna feel the beat go

up!!! Get Up off your feet girl, shake your money maker shake it like an 8ball, do the salt shaker Drop it to the flo, go fuck Jared Baker Make the beat