
Date of issue: 31.08.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fillmoe Coleman
Song language: English
3:00 AM |
Brave like an indian the Mohican of his last |
No money weed or ass baby no backstage pass |
We rondezvous, I’m flippin on my kenneth cole shoes |
And some bitches talk too much I’m letten them bitches spread the news |
Like channel 4 |
Why gangsta niggas love to snort blow? |
Chewy is the god down here in the 'Moe pina colada |
The set done got hotter than a sauna |
We break 'em like a puzzle then we gather like pirhanna |
I keep my money by my nuts |
Dip through the cuts we don’t front we at the front and we roll big blunts |
Layin pagans down |
Just like a bearskin rug |
Goin deep into the depths just like a Russian navy sub |
On course, rollin with the front lights off… I can smell the gunpowder |
Bullets dipped in the sauce |
Some jokers floss |
Yeah, but is the impression they’ve adapted |
My steel declare’ll spark the flare |
The or the plastic |
Burning rubber |
Doin doughnuts that the pigs just couldn’t eat |
They brought the coffee and the cream but all they saw was tire streaks |
I’m on the streets |
I can feel my mother worry in her sleep |
It’s 3 a. |
m |
I’m with Sun Kim and we smokin to the beat |
It’s Nickatina… |
Meow Meow Meow Meow |
Meow Meow Meow Meow… |
I be a suitor, a freeway drivin bay bridge commutor |
My roll of decks in full effects has turned into a computer |
We got weed, but cheese out all the snitches |
We want the money and the women |
You can keep them scandelous bitches… for ya self |
I make ya put ya mic up on tha shelf, broke ass hoes they want new cothes |
Be axin niggas for help, but I can’t hear em' but I can hear a needle |
Drop on top a pillow |
When a clucker fiend here go a sceme, a piece of yellow skittle, a tin shot |
Follow me as I parade around the block, blowin wind like a tornado |
Dirchargin' like a Glock, steel plated, I usually get an X when I’m rated |
Them sucka MC’s Them wannabees, they talk when only faded, like the blunt. |
that once was plump then burned to ashes |
I garuntee my third degree is just like twenty lashes, on ya face |
I’ll one hundred percent represent my race. |
while them bastards blast that rock |
n' roll, my niggas crank the bass for tha chamillion |
The F finger answer all ya questions, my pitbull alliance no doubt |
My only cure is protection stutter steppin |
My killer cross ain’t false it’s been perfected |
Baby ya got nice clothes, but I’ve come to see ya nekked |
Like it’s ya birthday, like a fiend would say |
When they broke and they on the rock |
Your conbination has been invaded, your safe has been unlocked |
It’s Nickatina |
Baby just pull ya panties down, all that other shit is um… irrelivant |
Meow Meow Meow Meow |
Let me hear that |
Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow |
Three Oh clock in the morning… |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Ayo For Yayo ft. San Quinn | 2010 |
Sun Duck Kim | 1999 |
Jelly Bean Colored Suits | 2010 |
Pick-cha | 2009 |
Popeye's Certified | 2010 |
Girls Say #3 ft. Andre Nickatina | 2009 |
Nino Did The Cartah | 2009 |
Nicky's (Strip Club) | 2010 |
Raven | 2009 |
Fist Full Of Dollars "Green Eyes" | 2009 |
My Name Is Money | 2010 |
Blind Genius | 2010 |
Nickatina Says | 2009 |
Bobby Shaw Is My Tiga | 2009 |
45 Caliber Raps | 2009 |
Falcon And The Snowman ft. Equipto | 2009 |
Gingerbread Man | 2009 |
Summer In Florida | 2009 |
Last Rap I'll Ever Write | 2000 |
Jelly ft. Problem | 2012 |