Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bleed for Me, artist - Vinnie Paz. Album song Carry on Tradition, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 11.04.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Enemy Soil
Song language: English
Bleed for Me |
Yo, I ain’t even countin' bars man, you know what I’m sayin'? |
(Yeah!) I’m just going! |
Shit… Check… Uh! |
Yo, introducin' the illest spic, Zilla rip your heart out quick (Uh-huh) |
I put a dart out with Paz and make the whole world sick (Let's go) |
That boom bap, snatch a rapper with my glue-like grip |
I’m the equivalent of Bruce Lee (Waaah!) if he write this |
I smack fire out the mic all day, Sinister Groove shit |
(Ooh-wops) is cocked and fightin' you on my cruise ship (Let's go) |
Welcome to the planet where average niggas’ll bruise quick |
We can get it raw, call it usin' Rhythm and Blues Fist (Yea) |
See I’mma monster, lock-jaws, pop-fall (POP! POP! POP!) |
Rounds in the air, the block know it as black |
They tried to say that I was destined to fail |
Until I made my city question who could bring it as real |
No deal, no dice; |
ain’t no luxury here (Uh-huh) |
Instead, it’s kill or be killed (killed) and I ain’t writin' a will (Nah!) |
So despite all the bullshit, nonsense, setbacks (yea) |
I’m 'bout to show the world the way a victory feel (yea that’s right) |
Me? |
I’m stuck on some hood shit (That's some hood shit) |
My cousin clap a nigga quick, your whole melon get split (split) |
One shot, Why waste the whole clip? |
(A whole clip?) |
A wood tip, my flow order niggas out of order thinkin' they’re the shit (Yea) |
Fuck a ounce, grab a brick, break it down, flood the strip |
Watch the law 'cause they always tryna see who doin' shit |
Question: Why niggas say they still affiliate with? |
I don’t need fake friends when I’m dealing with shit |
You can’t trust 'em, fuck 'em (fuck 'em), get 'em away quick (yea) |
Before they start snitchin' (snitchin') and get you locked up quick (You bitch |
niggas) |
I bang a nigga, I ain’t the type to drop kick |
Rainy days, dark nights; |
I still make a profit |
They be really dressin' all black like they was gothic |
Cry in the river like Justin over your casket |
I’m always lookin' ahead, never dwellin' on bad shit (Uh-huh) |
I never hold work Sino make it fast, bitch |
This the O.K. |
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air |
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down |
Where the jewels and the paper at? |
Never a diplomat |
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town |
It’s the O.K. |
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air |
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down |
Where the jewels and the paper at? |
Never a diplomat |
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on! |
Every single rhyme I write make a buildin' collapse |
It go from cell to cell, you can feel the synapse |
Matter fact, I let Blac' and Zill' kill 'em with that |
Three motherfuckers, three of the illest in rap |
We Treacherous Three, that was the pillar of rap |
Then Kool Moe Dee made it guerilla to rap |
He went at LL, went at his feelings in fact |
And at the same time brothers was dealin' with crack |
Killin' 'em Softly, Slaine was the villain in that (Slaine you my brother) |
Kenny Gill, Vinnie real, he still is intact |
You analog, I’m digital and I’m feelin' the dat |
I’ve been raw, Tim Dog — Penicillin On Wax (R-I-P!) |
Poor Righteous Teacher 'cause I’m dealin' with facts |
What’s the price of reefer when you dealin' with math |
Punchin' a sucker rapper, maybe I’m guilty for that |
He just another rapper, y’all know my feelings on that |
Chauvinistic, misogynistic, in every spot I visit |
Bitches get twisted, my G is simplistic (haha) |
Even fat bitches get crushed too… 'cause I’m optimistic |
Director’s chair, life is like a motion picture (nigga!) |
The scene from The Godfather, beat ya like Sunny’s sister |
Apocalypse Now, Black Hawk Down |
Nigga’s talk loose now, but they softer than goose downs |
I’m payin' no attention, layin' low like the Benz suspension |
Crazily slept on, but still get an honorable mention |
Prophetical, last man standin' like The Book of Eli |
Lost in Italy, I’m trynna to find a pair of felines |
Back to the States where the steaks is great |
Feelin' the hate, leavin' 'em bleedin' like females menstruate |
Death to those who chose to throw arrows at the Pharaohs |
Incineratin' your block, douse you with the Tommy Gun barrels |
Official Pistol Gang, bangin' guns like Al-Qaeda — What?! |
This the O.K. |
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air |
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down |
Where the jewels and the paper at? |
Never a diplomat |
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town |
It’s the O.K. |
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air |
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down |
Where the jewels and the paper at? |
Never a diplomat |
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on! |