Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gangsta, artist - The Diplomats. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Gangsta |
| Oh, come on, fuck with your boy |
| It’s Santana, Heatmakers, where we at? |
| Let me see you through this |
| Killa, Jones, Freakay |
| Yeah man, I’m back at it Today’s a new day, got the boo-lay up in the suitcase |
| Go uptown to Harlem, tell 'em that I sent ya Tell 'em it’s August, I’m «Gon'Til'November» |
| I need a couple birds, get a broad, have 'em sent up Call my bird, get my broad have her sent up (Please) |
| Call my niggaz, call my squad, have 'em sent up (Please) |
| I see a town I’m likin' |
| See some niggas getting money in a town I like it I run up on them with the pound and light it Like it’s my block now, all right kid? |
| He understood me quite clear |
| Then that thing banged out, ranged out the side of his right ear |
| And I got back to my business, back to my bitches |
| Back to the kitchen, that pyrex vision |
| Pop, I let that white stuff sit in Get hard, get rock, get to the block and pitchin' |
| Yeah I’m sorry but this is how I’m livin |
| And this is how I’m getting, fuck how I get it Hey! |
| I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
| Listening to gangsta music |
| I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
| Watching how the gangstas do it |
| I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
| Watching Shaft, clocking math |
| Now I see death around the corner |
| Gotta stay high, will I survive in the city where the skinny niggas die? |
| Nope, it’s the city where the skinny niggas ride |
| .45 semi on the side, twisting when they drive, yeah |
| Lick a shot for Big Pop and 'Pac, yeah |
| One more for Shyne locked inside, yeah |
| Two more for Cam, for taking over the Roc |
| Yeah, yeah, it’s my year |
| So, okay, okay, okay, y’all can’t fuck with me, no way |
| Jose or Hector Camacho |
| Tech blows and watch yo’chest close and tacos |
| Motherfucker I’m the best, I told y’all before |
| I should y’all before, ey! |
| I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
| Listening to gangsta music |
| I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
| Watching how the gangstas do it |
| I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
| Watching Shaft, clocking math |
| I’m on the westside of Chicago, lookin’for a bust down |
| And make me put my two arms up, Touchdown! |
| You stay in touch now, but when I tough down |
| I’m like Buckshot shorty, you better «Duck Down» |
| Yeah I must clown, I’m from Harlem, Uptown |
| Where we flash money, take your bitch and ask you, what now? |
| Birds flip a dozen, chicks is dicks they suckin' |
| Swallow my kids, go and kiss they cousin |
| Yes, they kissing cousins, toys kissing muppets |
| Worst then that, they go home and kiss they husband |
| That shit’s disgusting |
| Keep the chickens clucking, keep the pigeons buggin' |
| This on my wrist is nothing |
| To me it’s just yellow hearts and pink diamonds |
| Where I get the money for this? |
| Don’t think rhymin' |
| You fucking with Pablo, Bravo, Mario Via Bolo ho, Ta-to |
| I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
| Listening to gangsta music |
| I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
| Watching how the gangstas do it |
| I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
| Watching Shaft, clocking math |