Текст песни Rolling 200 Deep V - Dj Kay Slay, Paul Wall, Nino Man

Rolling 200 Deep V

Shit, them popped off, the knockoff’s get knocked out\nThe top boss, I sock in your snap mouth\nDo not cross, I’ll have you licking hot sauce\nSlay to the corner, they gonna bring the chalk off\nIn H-Town, put them drops out, top off\nSlop chop, I’m ridin' getting topped off\nTell them cowards, tryna drop out, stop now\n200 MC’s, you bums getting boxed out\nLook, I’m Nino Man, that Harlem get 'em, you all know\nThey don’t care who around, I stand out like bardo\nI’m in the Carlo with on’s big as Kentaro\nEven the fars know it’s poppin' like Jack Harlow\nThey don’t wanna put in work, they just want the benefits\nI was using benefits, trappin' out of the tournaments\nThought they said it was it cause they keep on tellin' me\nCaught red-handed, I was still jackin', I’m innocent\nIf you wanna talk it out, I’m guessin' it all matters\nAnd we can chop it up like some masses in jackhammers\nFirst aids pile, we knew what the game had us\nLike the first piece of pussy we ever got on a mattress\nHad it out rollin', it started, you better watch me\nA hundred few cons in my own Luke-a-Braust\nAnd they worse than them Nazis was\nI got my finger on the button, care to stop the bus\nPut the tape on the Glock and load up a fresh click\nI sample the yayo in a spot, hoes are the best Nip\nI ran through every maze on the block\nI know when to step quick, you set trip\nI take off the locks and make sure you septed\nIt’s hard when you try to do right and get hit\nBut God should’ve took Lil Nas X and left Nip\nFuck it, just listen to the best bit\nEight bars done turn into a death wish\n«Run It!"ain't nothin' to mess with\nRoll out the red carpet, let’s get it started\nYou retarded, bitch, my shoes cause she an apartment\nI paint pictures, you calling these hoes artists\nSaid she gon' blow in the game, I’m thinking cartridge\nNa, they get nervous when they hear I’m droppin'\nIs gloves on when they come to punches between by friends\nWe ain’t even associates, ain’t attendin' college\nI be murderin' shit, I need a Johnnie Cochran\nLook at your clothes, dawg, I got more clothes than you\nListen to your flow, them broads got more flows than you\nYou chrome hoes, but them whores get more hoes than you\nWhat about shows, my cars get more shows than you\nI’m 60, nigga, swing on me, you can’t hit me, nigga\nI’m in your face like a buck fifty, nigga\nMister Black on Black, crime with a turf on grind\nWhen I stick your head in your ass\nThen you have some hot shit on your mind\nMentally, I’m grown, don’t put me back in that space\nWhen I reach, I put the scalpel and put in back in your face\nWhere I pop out the shadows with the barrel is big\nWhere I show up and hug your mother after the wait\nMy caliber great, they gotta know, hutch with a mind\nShit, diamond know, that’s how I roll\nFast schooler, hard knocks, I attend, made out of roll\nShoota, I’m the most silent fact rapper’s gold\nBars unexpectional, shows unexpectable\nYou opening up the job ward at the next fire fest\n20, 20, 10, never work with Dirty Dan\nFive am, we the cats dining with the early bird\nEarly nerd, cause nerds rule the world, nigga\nWe’re just people in the world as nerds, check Forbes, nigga\nDrop a slug in the state, straight out the Nas\nPill a pussy, get out the real, Bill Cosby\nThis is for the culture, nigga, on of them\nBut they be like, «Why Kay Slay let this DJ rhyme again?»\nLet me set the record straight, I done wrote bars for artists\nThat you consider great, the hardest are the softest\nYeah, female too, I don’t discriminate\nDepending on they head game, they probably got a better rate\nThat makes the money stop, yeah, but the royalties generate\nStill to this day, one of the illest DJs