South Park - H-Town G-Funk - Sözleri

Thanks to younghtownplaya@aol.com for these lyrics.  My sweet Lac fall back just creepin' on three wheels  [First Verse] A bitch to my right cocked giving me cheap thrills  I see meals, coming down my path  In the ghetto cat's wrath making math  I'm the last to blast, on that ass now you the past  Who the fastest punk em' like cashes  It's no joke you get smoked like buddah grass  And when I crash this you catch whiplashes  Bitch I'm on a mission to listen and give descriptions  Hung G's in my hood in their intentions  I hear gunshots ringing like hell's bells  I see drug sells check out my thug tales  Fuck jails, bank swells keeps hella grip  And I can sell dope on ice, and never slip  They serving Kibbles N' Bits while I'm cooking bricks  Save my crumbs for the ones who sucking dicks  I made it rich on the ditch you quick snap  I left that cut now they wonder where the brick's at  My green shit stacks, still clip packs  It's the wet back hitting on the bongs  Thirty-six lead homies so don't trip jack  Son in the long run, I'll be the strong one.   Chorus: (4X)  If you step in my hood bitch you will get blasted   It's nothin but that h-town g-funk  (Yeah this is for all them hustlers in Hillwood, South Park. Huh.)  [Second Verse]  Trying to jack now you're on your back breathing anastesia  I told yah, boy you must have caught amnesia  You got blasted 'cause you trespassed it  They never lasted, in the game I mastered  You stupid bastard, tell me what's your final word  Before I let this lead tip hit your spinal cord  Oh you was ready just begging to gank me  Now your ass is just dead and stanky  I put my foot in your shit like the hokey pokey  Leave the scene, now everything's okie dokie  Your homies know me, but they won't fuck with this  So you little jackers best stick to crackers  'cause now they know that I could show buck a bitch  'cause fucking with this mex gets your neck broke  I'm the macker plus the gun packer  Stuck like chuck straight fucked and in check Loc  'cause I think fast when I'm in the slow lane  Get in my domain and fall back with no brain  So dont raid, or try to rain on my parade  'cause i'm strapped from my blade, to my grenade.   Chorus   [Third Verse] My sweet Texas, restless, wanting to ride Lexus  Check this or flex this, I get wreckless  Unbelievable lyrical synical  Here we go mary go round I down critical  Street stamina dammin' a cop  Slammin' a punk, and jam in my funk  Guard my grill with steel, on Sundays I kneel  I'm the man with the skill foreal  On my knees to Jesus, please seize us  'cause my boy's in trouble, and he needs us  Got a bat, my homie's on the double  Punks want trouble, I bam bam rubble  Come and get some, I leave you wet mon  Still the son of a gun having big fun  Fill your lead with an infared  I put the best to bed, they call him dead fucking fred  Shed my skin like a snake on a vine  We fall in ranks like a motherfucking pyramid  Climbing on the crime side, coming around the blind side  And I'm the top block will I stop never did  Make you pass the 9th grade, but got life made   Chose that dope and I hope I picked the right trade.  Chorus

														   

														   











		
			



Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com