Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Mash, artist - B-Legit. Album song Hempin Ain't Easy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 11.09.2000
Record label: Koch
Song language: English
We Mash |
It’s me and Coleone at the pound on perk |
Wanna hit the stripper spot, maybe knock us some work |
It’s been a minute, I’m in it still down to ride |
98 Nav' with the screens inside |
Hoes wanna roll, bitches know we go big |
A car full of dope, nigga sittin' on six |
Big like a gat, so now my mack stay low |
With no DL so I bails from fifth-0 |
I’m hittin' corners, blocks, driveways and alleys |
Whitewall’s and Rally’s dippin' up and down Cali |
Might hit the spot, and wanna get down tough |
A bag full of kush and a sack of the duff |
You had enough? |
You know the staff was down to hurt her |
The bitch was a groupie hoe, just fucked C-Murder |
And I’m a motherfucker dick that’s Platinum and Gold |
It ain’t my fault, that’s what I was taught, the game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
Guess who’s back in the motherfuckin' house |
With a fat sack and a dick for your mouth |
Nigga comin' back with hoes, money and clout |
And tryin' to show y’all what this shit is really about |
Now, I can kick it with B or light up the heat |
Or holler at P, turn up the beat |
Bangin' the fo', the low-low that is |
Or slang dodo or coco, fo' sho' that is |
But I ain’t even trippin' no more |
I’m like the Six Million Dollar Man, nigga in slow-mo |
Go bro, take this shit as far as ya ever been |
Shit I’m tryin' to go places, ain’t no nigga never been |
But then, niggas steady tryin' to twist me |
In the pen I got the whole Crip card with me |
Come get me, y’all niggas know where I’m at |
Ain’t No Limit to this shit, just know that |
Nigga know that, we show that |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game is cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
Up early in the mornin', dressed in black |
I’m to the dope track to get the dope sack |
Blowin', it’s Mr. Bill Clinton of Vallejo, California |
With no warnin' shots, just thought I’d warn ya |
I used to campaign, sold D in the rain |
Came Mother’s Day, gave chickens away |
Now where I stay, in the Yay, be on the under |
Shit be like a jungle, sometimes it make we wonder |
By the summer, fuck a Hummer, I ball a 'Burban |
If niggas don’t get it together, it’s curtains |
I’m certain, we all hurtin', all want a piece |
But if you fiddle with mine I turn savage beast |
Leave you creased nigga, like you stole somethin' |
People tell me «Legit, you’s a cold somethin» |
Fuck fightin' and frontin', and bustin' over nothin' |
That’s how they fold, the game be cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game be cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game be cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game be cold |
(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat») |
The game be cold |