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Gang Starr
Gang Starr
Исполнитель
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Chris Martin
Chris Martin
Автор песен
Keith Elam
Keith Elam
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Asiah Lewis
Asiah Lewis
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Cory McKay
Cory McKay
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Freddie Harper Byrd
Freddie Harper Byrd
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JOHNSON ALBERT
JOHNSON ALBERT
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Jean Claude Olivier
Jean Claude Olivier
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Jermain Baxter
Jermain Baxter
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Kejuan Muchita
Kejuan Muchita
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Kiam Holley
Kiam Holley
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Marlon Lu Williams
Marlon Lu Williams
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Nasir Jones
Nasir Jones
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Percy Chapman
Percy Chapman
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R. Montgomery
R. Montgomery
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Samuel Barnes
Samuel Barnes
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Shalena Nikki Bratcher
Shalena Nikki Bratcher
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Shawn Moltke
Shawn Moltke
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ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
DJ Premier
DJ Premier
Продюсер
Гуру
Гуру
Сопродюсер
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Миксинг-инженер
Dexter Thibou
Dexter Thibou
Ассистент инженера звукозаписи

Слова

What, you wanna battle me? Yo man, how much money you got? What, you wanna battle me? Yo man, how much money you got? I used to guzzle 40's and own a beat-up Caddy Since the hood still love me, I turn the heat up daddy I went to mackin' fly honeys on the train To straight relaxing on the beach counting money getting brains Soon as you rappers get a chance, you wanna floss a lot You buy a iced-out watch because it cost a lot Then you in the club stylin' with dough Profilin' with ho's we boned a while ago You rookies haven't done enough laps around the track You had one hot single but then your album sounds whack Son, you bore me with your war stories You ain't even do that shit, so that's just more stories How you expect us to take you seriously The look in my eye, punk, has got you scared of me I'm blasting your sons, I'm snatching your funds You get your royal ass-whooping, you been asking for one About to slap rappers around, bruise the game Be thorough to the end You man feel the drill About to slap rappers around, bruise the game What, you wanna battle me? Yo man, how much money you got? Bitch, you don't even know the half about me I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser I might advise ya, or i might pulverize ya I can visit any city, get respect in the streets While you're alone in your room, scared to death of the streets I take a second to speak, i keep my weapon in reach I ain't talking romance, but you'll get swept off your feet I keeps this ghetto chick that loves to blast that metal shit Groupies fake moves I get her to settle shit You can't compare to this status right here Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here Listen junior, I'ma tear back your wig This ain't TV, but I'll show you what a fear factor is Stop grillin' me All that frontin' is killing me You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings, G About to slap rappers around, bruise the game (what you wanna battle me?) Yo man, how much money you got? Be thorough to the end You man feel the drill About to slap rappers around, bruise the game About to slap rappers around, bruise the game Be thorough to the end About to slap rappers around You know the drill Be thorough to the end About to slap rappers around, bruise the game You know the drill
Writer(s): Jermain Anthony Baxter, Shalena Bratcher, Christopher Edward Martin, Marlon Lu'ree Williams, Percy Lee Chapman, Ryan D. Montgomery, Kiam Holley, Cory Mckay, Freddie Harper Byrd, Albert Johnson, Asiah Louis, Nasir Jones, Shawn Leigh Moltke, Samuel J. Barnes, Keith Elam, Jean Claude Olivier, Kejuan Waliek Muchita Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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