Текст песни Camouflage 94-99 - MAC

Camouflage 94-99

Whoa
Yeah Yeah
Muthafuckin' camouflage hitman
Assassin, soldier, sniper, murderer
Nigga what
My brother Ghost off in this bitch
Smoke in this bitch ya heard me
To all the projects and suburbs and hoods in between
Keep a scheme like these crack fiends still on they scene
The life of the poor and dangerous wrote in my words
Quotin my verbs and words while they puff on they herbs
Sitting on my curb watching this birds
Lil' man he crossed the street trippin' on this gangsta shit that I word
I’m laying back with some neighborhood cats listening to some chat
About who’s on crack and all of that
Good times they like the Lord all of us is waitin for em'
Some junk got drunk and told my niggas that he saw him
They said it was lies but i was tellin my guys
He coulda been the very God in disguise in my eyes
The crack lady cried cuz' she was owing some guys
They rushed the crib and put the black around both of her eyes
You gotta play it wise and peep game from a distance
Abandoned houses is hotel suites for the rats and mouses
Or should I say mice the trigger spray twice
A nigga shot the street lights to keep his sights on the low
Plus the fuckin' 5−0 is interrupting my flow
I’m flirting with this neighborhood new face
She got an ass that’ll make you do base and screwface on your partner
But she’s a popper the type you pullin' out ya knot for
It ain’t proper I had to stop her
I had to stop her
Uptown, we live to die
Pour liquor for my niggas who enjoyin' the sky
If y’all identity with the way to survive
Then say camouflage
Check it we spray paint the block up
For the niggas locked up and those who got popped up
Pour the vodka on the concrete
Behind the cell catching hell gettin' my mail
You turnin' pale cuz you ain’t seen the sun since you in jail
They got you with the redband now you a walking deadman
And just to touch land you can’t wait like the redman
We still duckin from the fed man
Dippin' in the cuts like it’s?
With contraband in the hands of good ones
A nerd turned hoodlum paranoid be just like the shook ones
Limited be the life of crook ones
The ghetto ain’t the same devil is blamed
Younger niggas taking it to different levels again
Slim frame with the alias name was out of reach till them cellulars came
With chips up in they frame
And rocked limos with tinted windows
With these hoes? sentimentals
Moonroof let ya' window blow
It’s all apart of growing up
Spiked punch got us throwing up
Weed slowing up the thought process
And it’s a thin line between reality and my rhyme
I walk in peace with the ghost of my kind
Stay close to my nine