Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Streets Move, artist - Big Shug. Album song Street Champ, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 16.07.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Streets Move |
| Yeah, here we go, here we go |
| Big Shug, comin at you baby with my man Singapore |
| Got the streets movin on 'em baby, that’s whassup |
| Make moves on them niggas |
| Once again, it’s the last of the dying breed |
| Burstin and pushin trees, blastin my enemies |
| Never conform to nothin, always perform for somethin |
| Hustle for big chips, shufflin cards and shit |
| Spittin it for the bricks, spittin it for this clique |
| Spittin it for the thugs surrounded by dime chicks |
| Yes I stay intense, my style’s, different |
| I purify the water like 50 Cent |
| Spit it heavy heavy, Porsche Caddy or Chevy |
| Who gave a fuck about your ride when they broke the levy |
| Don’t blame it on the Pres, blame it on the black mayor |
| The Pres got the power, the mayor’s just a sayer |
| I’m still touchin pullin squeezin and clappin |
| Co-captain when I spit on beats by Preem |
| I live the life, that you MC’s dream |
| But I’m still chasin after the cream |
| Yes I’m still at it, hungry like the very first day |
| When I picked the microphone up and made the crowd sway |
| I still scream JUST MOVE ON 'EM |
| Put the weapons in the air and put TWO ON 'EM~! |
| Streets move on 'em, he fake moves put two on him |
| Aim for the head, put pressure on him |
| Don’t believe what he say, just move on him |
| Streets move on 'em, streets move on 'em |
| Poetic street lyricist, hot flows bring heat to my sentences |
| Fuck a weak gimmick cause I’m deep, did I mention that |
| MC’s try to spit but I hoch lungies |
| I was dope when Bobby Brown was rockin that Gumby |
| Cops fear me cause they don’t scare me |
| My «Moment of Truth» came when I applied the «Robbin Hood Theory» |
| Rob from the rich and give to the poor |
| I’m tight on the stage with the mic, like Eddie Murphy in _Raw_ |
| On the block where I drunk 'gnac and threw up, where Malcolm X grew up |
| Where new bucks try to make a few bucks |
| The crack route might get that ass whacked out |
| I beat backs out, drink Guinness Black Stout |
| I know rastas who still drive Cressidas |
| And pack machetes to fuck up your skin like eczema |
| I be smooth, when I hear the beat groove |
| Richter couldn’t measure, how I make the streets move, streets move |
| You foolin the people, push records to sell |
| Rappin that lie music, dancin to minstrel |
| Sinful to sing your hooks, layin out for the crooks |
| We know you ain’t sayin nothin your whole persona’s shook |
| I’m likin that ice too, I’m likin them cars too |
| Born with no silver spoon, grindin I have to do |
| True with my moves, never settle for nothin |
| Record deals are false, cats with no pulse |
| Sayin I can be thug, when they know they man’s soft |
| The industry is soft, take a look at your boss |
| Today, he’s the one, livin like Bill Gates |
| Tell you everyday to hurry up so you can wait |
| Your mentality’s street so every day you creep |
| He could be yo' next victim any day of the week |
| Grab him by the shirt, look him dead in the eye |
| Yell out Biggie Smalls, make him «Ready to Die» |