Обсуждаем Дипломатов...
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out look out
From over the Rooftop
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out Look out
From over the rooftop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
Row Da Boat - Straight to da ocean
Give 'im a run - A run at his own game
Signal the plane - An' I landed on the runway
A survivor, independant foreigner
First your beats had me running to the running man
Then your chat had me wanna do the bogie man
Click suits and booted in the timberland
Freakin out to Missy on a Timbaland
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out Look out
From over the rooftop
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out Look out
From over the rooftop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
You shoulda been good to me
Then I wouldn't get so rowdy rowdy
You shoulda kept ya eye on me
Then I wouldn't get so baddy baddy
Whether you are...
Swinging out to Swing beat
Laying low and jacking-up to Lou Reed
Chasin out to Pixies and the Beasties
Doin aceed with Hair-Coloured Geek Freaks
FFWD onto the' 04
Got my own flow get you to the dance floor
Little mamma doin the booty rolls
Crump clowns got me rootin for the linos
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out Look out
From over the rooftop
Growin up, Brewin Up
Guerilla gettin trained up
Look out Look out
From over the rooftop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
Competition coming up now
Load up,
Aim,
Fire Fire,
Pop
Hey 'Rell this beat is.. (HOT!.. HOT!)
You know I keep a chrome, under seats and in the home
Without speaking you'll give me your chain
I'm Da Vinci, don't make me draw ya pain
They call me 'Sco, short for Rosco P. Coldchain
Hey 'Rell this beat is.. (HOT!)
[Verse 1: Pusha T]
It go hot waist - Desert taste
Four pounds of metal, triangle face
Hesi-tate - never, I'll put hole in whoever
Don't make Push' Russian Roulette ya
Gamble wit ya life
Change came from cocaine I've measured
White was the treasure, comfort was the steel
I pedal to the corner like a child on a big wheel
Flow more sicker, so much shake in the street
They measure my weight in Richter
Make no mistake, I rhyme for the public
But still I push weight that make the ghetto's quake
By all means I've seen I've lived
By 22 years old, 50 thousand dollar vehicles I rimmed
{*scratches*} My dreams start over the stove
I ran over the globe and back again
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Rosco P. Coldchain]
Y'all niggas really ain't got a pot to piss in
Or a window to throw it out of
I'm filthy but you better believe I got over a stack in my pocket though
Iceberg on the seams of jeans? no!
I'm a Dickies and Timbs man, I'm not no Benz man
Delta '88 on rims man, wit mirror tint
And four of my most militant men whose trying to stay sucka free
That's why they hang around me, cause I ain't print
Left em for diamonds and pearls, I'm not no bitch
I choose a mack before that attached 100 shot clip
I scare the shit outta bank tellers so I can become rich
That's how I make my living, I give em encouragement, "you're doing great!"
Keep chillin while I'm flashing the glock in their face
I show em I can be appreciative, I tell em thanks for giving I'm sinning!
But the Lord knows I have three children
Now I'm somewhere in +Utah+ relaxing to +Jazz+ with a broad
Quarter mill in a stash, avoiding the law from far!