thought about (Some cunt is bringin up a load of fuckin shithole streets hats) Oi, oi, (?) down the day before the crafts the hats were bought by warner staff thought they were fakes
, unable to feel anything much Which was the reason why I bought my first suit But wasn't thinking at that bit on stage The Fake Streets Hats were actually not fake
Traduzione: The Streets. Falso Streets Cappelli.
millions I'ma be wit it Hats off to the hardcore niggaz FUCK the rest In my guess y'all useless, just talkin music Never mistake me for a fake MC You
[Big L:] Yo, here's another smooth song to get your groove on Violate or try to fake jacks and you'll get moved on Peace to all my niggas with the thousand
Wake up muthafuckas it's Weezy you got a problem Hats to dem Katrina victims we still mobbin Shiny black coupe at night look like a goblin AK on da backseat
up and make em..., sorry officers I only got my permit To the fake cats, who shank niggas, break bats Stay 'woke, cuz make hats, take naps Put him to
all of a sudden I'm a fuckin mad man who screams Like I'm 'Pac but I'm not, enemies, Hennesy Actin like I'm great, but I'm fake, I'm CRAZY Sweat drip,
shit on my back Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap Bring hell to niggaz when Dre producing a track Take it to the streets
a pussy or been in one Listen to $hort, be ready to mack some bitches when it's done It's some of that mackish Oakland street shit, 'bitch' wasn't no
playin' with me [Turk] It's in my bloodstream wodie, ta be the nigga that I am Tote gats with hats take a nigga from his fam' Nothin' but streets shit
their turn to flex, Jeru is up next All, these so called players up in the rap game Got brothers on the corner selling cooked cocaine It used to be LaToya and, jim hats
I can, I gotta pound of that sand I picked up from the man, The luxuries I gotta have it, black savage, He's in the streets holdin' up traffic, With the
your cheap snare No promotional shows, girls wear corn rows People with hooded sweaters on crack keep me on my toes I walk with straw hats, fake glasses
raw dog style with no practice. I mack this microphone like a hoe on the stroll. In total control of the soul. Any asshole can pull a gun the streets
[Verse One] I start beef on dark streets, cursing the transients Take your pick of your latest whip, hearse or an ambulance Cause I'm a scientist to
its way Of the strip, chrome blaze I'ma tip Big o' mothership on a Southside flip Let's rip, the streets, and then rip the sheets In between I'ma be
