Afta Servin A Deuce - 20-2-Life: testi di canzoni, video musicali e concerti

Afta Servin A Deuce

109Hip-Hop/Rap2001

Dettagli della canzone

Afta Servin A Deuce è stato pubblicato il 13 marzo 2001 da SoSouth come parte dell'album No Bond

Data di uscita13 marzo 2001

EtichettaSoSouth

LinguaEnglish

BPM75

Melodicità

Acousticità

Valence

Ballabilità

Energia

PANORAMICA

TESTI

Testi

Whaddup doe?

The BigTyme Recordz done just landed

And we ain't from this fuckin' planet

20-2-Life in the mothafuckin' house

Kill a ho and that **** black

Handle yo bidness fool

Robbed of life, as I walk, but it still pays me, dope to bucks

'Cause my daddy never gave a fuck

To see a **** strugglin' down on his knees

All I had to look up to was the backstreet OGs

So I parented myself and raised myself to be a holder

A folder, a money makin' ghetto soldier

And I had to make sure that I was wrapped tight

'Cause no money, no game, don't even sound right

So I'm out to beat the system, just to make a lick

Too much comp, so I'm bumpin' **** off and shit

Lookin' out for number one

A victim of the ghetto, so I'm packin' a fuckin' gun

Holdin' up liquor stores and robbin' them white folks

Smokin' swisher sweets and wearin' them black locs

Not givin' a damn about the next ****'s shit

Jack move after jack move, it slowly becomes a habit

I took many lives, looked in many eyes, before I bust 'em

But they didn't go, so now I can't discuss 'em

The clientele and juice is mine, so I hold up

The title 'cause its vital to them backstreets I sewed up

Ayo, I'm up for parole, now I gotta pimp a hustle

A **** used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle

Straight chin checkin', rockin' yo grill

Another ten second, shockin' ho kill

'Cause these are the ways of a jackin'

The backstreet OGs, gotta keep that paper stackin'

Kill a ho and black be on the crack free, Jack spree

Them backstreets, make a mothafucka wanna pack G

Comin' up in them backstreets, the next G was straight meter shit that I buck with

**** couldn't fuck with

OGs stay low, the bar was packin' that fuckin' heat

They bring this shit to war in them southpark backstreets

So **** beat yo feet for the hot-spot

The Glock you got, sudden dip, so it's shot for shot

A vision of street life is all you can think about

From cut to cut, takin' nuts we can shoot 'em out

Buckin' 'em down, leavin' no mothafuckin' evidence

So the laws can't arrest me for this crazy shit

Young ass **** meetin' ends

Buy a fuckin' .38, aggravated related murder, two shots to the fuckin' head (Buck! Buck!)

Gangsta, Gangsta, soldier with the spike wing

You go toe to toe like a mothafuckin' viking

My nuts to the ground and my heart made of concrete

Road to no return, down a dead-end street

Never put my hustle or my Glock down

Bustin' mothafuckas in the game until they put me on lock down

But for now the backstreet, belong to Mr. Money-Maker

'Til another G can take me to the undertaker

A ****'s up for parole, but I gotta pimp a hustle

A **** used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle

Straight chin checkin', rockin' yo grill

Another ten second, shockin' ho kill

'Cause these are the ways of a jackin'

The backstreet OGs, gotta keep that paper stackin'

Kill a ho and black be on the crack free, Jack spree

Them backstreets, make a mothafucka wanna pack G

As the days go by, my life has changed

'Cause livin' yo life out in these streets, sin't no fuckin' game

A victim of the backstreets, casualty of reality

Laws that gaffle me, these **** wanna battle me

Ever met a backstreet **** with the backstreet nuts

Pullin' them backstreet triggers, on the backstreet cuts?

'Cause I made way for myself, I had to bogard, pull ho cards

I couldn't be fed it 'cause I was raised hard

Never had this or that, all I really had was pity

Gleamin' I'm dreamin' of thoughts, dyin' in my fuckin' city

So if you're hard, hit the charge like loot it out

Get the nuts to be a man ****, straight shoot it out

Prostitutes servin' **** on every block

Static to the bushes, pimps pullin' triggers on the Glocks

'Cause I was born and raised and my soul will never die or rot

My name will still remain for all the **** that I shot

But when it's my time to die, death I'll never cheat

But my mama's just lost her little boy to the backstreets

Up for parole, then I gotta pimp a hustle

A **** used to flip 'em, now I gotta work my muscle

Punk, straight chin checkin', rockin' yo grill

Another ten second, shockin' ho kill

'Cause these are the ways of a jackin'

The backstreet OGs, gotta keep that paper stackin'

Kill a ho and black be on the crack free, Jack spree

Them backstreets, make a mothafucka wanna pack G

Hahaha, yeah, check this out, this Point Blank

Comin' straight outta South-mothafuckin'-park

Down with 20-2-Life, that black'll kill a ho bitch

Y'all can't fuck with these BigTyme styles

'Cause we in here (In here!)

Yeah, I'ma send this out to my brotha 38

That **** on lock down right now

But his album gonna be out called "Aggravated Slim"

We got Ice Lord in the house

Smooth Execution, PSK-13

And UG-*Coughs*

Damn! Check this out

We in this bitch for the Nine Trey

And the mothafuckin' nine-four

Wreckless Klan in the house

Wreckless in the house, bitch!

Written by: 20-2-Life

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