Fredro Starr - Dying`for RAP | Текст песни

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• Fredro Starr
• Dying`for RAP

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The game is fucked up, ya niggas got me tired of rap
Right now I'm not inspired by rap
Ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap, talkin bout iron for clap
Ya niggas never fired a gat
Never took it the streets, and supplied it wit packs
I had feds in my house, trynna wire my cat
In the wall, little cameras hidin in cracks
Niggas talk about drug money, what cats you flip
On the trains tellin bitches that you crashed ya whip
You never seen cop killers wit the plastic grips
Turn beef to some funky closed casket shit
Blast a fifth, 16 shots, niggas ran 16 blocks
16 niggas drop, ya niggas never seein the plot
Never put greens on top, never put fiends on lock
My elite niggas scream on cops, hustle dope
Roll up, puff up smoke, parolin decode
Standin on them corners wit them guns in they coats
Had them same little muthafuckas under ya bed
Gun to ya head, wake up, wanted ya dead
End of the night, take ya light, I'm gettin ya back
I'm twistin you back, cuz what ya niggas spittin on tracks'll
Get you 16 or 8, gun cap, leave it at that
Cuz ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap

[Hook 2X]
See, I'm what defines the streets
The one that bitches dyin to meet
The one ya thugs tryin to be
Since I started, I can't count how many sound like me
But can't none of ya niggas get down like me
Can't none of ya niggas get down like me
Can't none of ya niggas get down like me

[Chorus 2X: Begetz]
We them killas that you read about
Playin wit them toys, and pullin heaters out
Keep talkin shit and we gon air it out
Takin Other People Money is what we all about

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[Fredro Starr]
Aiyo, I roll wit the Gods and them, the Stars and them
Hundred thousand dollar dollar cars and them
Firestarr move deep like the mob and them
America Mafia dot com and them
(Yo, dat be dem) The wild life, livin it up
You get clapped for ya dough, instead of givin it up
(Yo, dat be dem) Late nights, I-95
Coke in the rye, flashlights searchin the side
(Yo, dat be dem) Shots howl, rollin wit kings
Thirty ninth street, B.D.'s bringin me greed
(Yo, dat be dem) Goin uptown, coppin a war
Real shit, Dominicans wit they glocks at the door
Word up

[Chorus 2X]

[Fredro Starr]
Aiyo, the deans we don't fucks wit them, or rocks wit them
Before I get locked, I'mma bust shots at them
Broke bitches never trustin them, or lustin them
Pushin the back pocks so I can bust in them
(But, dat be dem) After-party, sexin wit chicks
Ex-out in the mornin, still fuckin the bitch
(But, dat be dem) Dice games: 4,5,6
Well it's a drought, niggas holdin bout 4/5 bricks
(But, dat be dem) The bartender hold me a gat
Gettin bottle after bottle, gettin sent to the back
(But, dat be dem) Riker's Island, H.T.M.
On the visit niggas, bringin weed taped to they Timbs
Word up

[Chorus 2X]

[Fredro Starr]
Wild life, killa Queens, ya runs wit them
My dirty Brooklyn niggas, get one's wit them
Ferrari drop behind the Rover, that's my dunns and them
Rob who? what my niggas keep guns on them
(Dat be dem) X-5, GBM
Signal lights in the mirror, bitches next to them
(Dat be dem) Glassware, cookin up drugs
In the club lost, lookin for love
(Dat be dem) A hundred fans, chasin them down
Bitch niggas in the projects, hatin 'em now
(Dat be dem) Takin holes, a coke and ya grow
Buyin clothes, just to open they nose and open they codes