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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
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War
(feat. Gee-Banga)
[Gee-Banga (Ced Gee):]
Uhh, this real New York shit right here man
You already know
Kool Keith, Gee-Banga let's go
(Ced Gee, Ultra, uhh)
Uhh, uhh, yo, yo
I wanted keys in my collection, so I loaded bullets in my weapon
Put on my gear, gun in my hand, prepare for this 187
See I'm a hustler, not a murderer
But if you get on my fuckin nerves then I'm gon' have to murder ya
Badder than stores that's from the Saudia{?}
Pull out my tec, gunnin yout neck execution style and just slaughter ya
Cookin them cracks that you be coughin up
Really don't give a fuck about family or who you the son of daughter of
You gon' really make me have to torture ya
But that's my second name in the hood, you can call me the extortion
G to the Danger is the enforcer of, G.K.B.
and gangster shit that the streets could ever offer ya
I always been less fortunate; so I fuck bitches
Party and drink and blow that sticky to get up off of it
When in reality you the talk of it
So don't be surprised me cock back and be demandin you take off your shit
[Chorus: Gee-Banga]
This is war, son you know we always packin that 4
And we puttin bullets straight through your door
Plus we stayin on point cause we don't wanna fall
If you get caught slippin you'll get killed for sure - brrrap!
This is war, son you know we always packin that 4
And we puttin bullets straight through your door
Plus we stayin on point cause we don't wanna fall
If you get caught slippin you'll get killed for sure
[Kool Keith:]
I'm international, worldwide traveller beyond that block shit
You hear about it, y'all can't avoid it when I drop shit
It's like takin a fat-ass sumo wrestler out with a dropkick
You get they rap careers started, my job is stop shit
Piss on anything y'all spit
Door #1, I can play Bob, Barker
Your bitch can't bid here
Better stay with the cock she picked, with sauce on her lip boss
I fuck up your lip gloss
Get your handicap games out nigga, cause you gonna limp across
Like a slow man in the street
Y'all niggaz put up your umbrellas up
Nobody wanna fuck with my sunstroke heat
That's on the strength~! After you leave, the car wash
I shit on top of your Cherokee Jeep
When I knock on the door
Niggaz play like they not home, cause they scared to speak!
Sleepin under beds, wrapped up in fuckin sheets!
Sega Genesah nigga we finish a nigga
[Chorus]
[Ced Gee:]
Yeah, check it
Dawg you cross me, you might as well take your own life
See I ain't takin no prisoners son, I'm even murderin your wife
Slaughterin all your kids, yeah, I'm that trife
Then sit down listen to your rep and give a thorough sermon
about the wrath of Christ
Drink some hot cocoa, sleep well that night
Then wake up in the mornin, and write some Ultra elevation
Do a show in Italy dawg, then listen to a standin ovation
Make a couple of songs in Haitian
Spanish and Japanese, bee-da-dong-yong
I'm great son, make no mistake son
You sleep on me all you want, and I bet you they find yo' ass in a lake son
[Chorus]
[Outro:]
This is war...
This is war...
This is war...
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