Видео

Street Wars
Смотреть видео на песню «{artistName} — {trackName}»

Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Vinnie Paz
Vinnie Paz
Исполнитель
Fonty
Fonty
Исполнитель
Tim Long
Tim Long
Валторна
Brian Williams
Brian Williams
Валторна
Vincent Luviner
Vincent Luviner
Исполнитель
C. Bauss
C. Bauss
Исполнитель
Terrence Thornton
Terrence Thornton
Исполнитель
Gene Thornton
Gene Thornton
Исполнитель
Ismael Diaz
Ismael Diaz
Исполнитель
Peter Albertz
Peter Albertz
Исполнитель
Shuko
Shuko
Исполнитель
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Vincent Luviner
Vincent Luviner
Автор песен
Terrence Thornton
Terrence Thornton
Автор песен
Gene Thornton
Gene Thornton
Автор песен
Ismael Diaz
Ismael Diaz
Автор песен
Craig Lanciani
Craig Lanciani
Автор песен
Christoph Bauss
Christoph Bauss
Автор песен
Peter Albertz
Peter Albertz
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Fonty
Fonty
Продюсер
Shuko
Shuko
Продюсер

Слова

Yeah, bout as real as they come Still pushing base like an African drum The only other hands that it touched before Young Was a Guala out of Dallas with shag like Tum Tum Back to the hood where niggas started detoxing Till I hit them corners with that motherfucking sheet rock The rollers back bitch, the seal's on the back bitch The six-three highlights the difference like an asterisks Yes, the re-up game never dies Soda makes the brick multiply Push tons of monster with the pie Keep water from the villain Remember what it did to them gremlins? Oh God, street wars when the heat warms up In summertime niggas know what's up Heavy armour, heavy drama, heavy karmas We the reason haters scared of us fucking their baby mamas Soon as this product hits the street You know they will be strung They'll be dancing to the beat of this drum Listen, It's addiction hey You know we got em hooked like fiends They open like a trunk They'll be dancing to the beat of this drum Listen, It's addiction Yeah, I told Pusha, I told Mal Vinnie move more white shit than a snowplough Everybody knew the Guinea was so foul The SKS with the bayonet, oh wow I'll rob everything and leave you with a hungry gut The hollow tips leave you looking like you got a Gumby cut You think you fucking with the God then you's a funny fuck Rambo knife cut your stomach like a tummy tuck All you see is darkness when the gun bursts The G36 melt your brain like a Pun verse I act wild but I handle my funds first I'm drunk all the time, blood quenches the son's thirst I don't talk about the money I got Because if money want my money then money gets shot Rap shit don't work then I dumb on the block With Pusha and Mal cooking up the drums in the pot Still with the coke man, same as it ever was Re-up gang, we the shame of America Eighties hysteria, the 'caine be my legacy The feds got our names, they hang us in effigy Best believe it come back like it never left I write rhymes but I'll bet I'd make a better chef They can't wait for it to dry, they like it better wet And I'm heavy with the D like Eddie F I whip it good, real good then I let it rest Then I scrape the sides then I let em test Yes, I got weight like Creatine A gem star hit that chopping block like a guillotine Know what I mean? Sitting on chrome rims Not only paper, we stack brick like Stonehenge Go against us? Haters got no wins I trust no one and I don't need no friends
Writer(s): 0, Christoph Bauss, Vincent Luviner, Terrence Le Varr Thornton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out