Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Got Cha Opin, artist - Black Moon. Album song Enta Da Stage, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 18.10.1993
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Nervous
Song language: English
I Got Cha Opin |
| When I get bent I must represent, no question |
| Get up a dime spot and then I’m off to the dread section |
| Roots hit me off lovely |
| Comin out the spot I had to duck because a nigga tried to buck me |
| I’m easin on the Glock like, What up, hop |
| Buck’s pullin out on cops cause I want free Glocks |
| What the fuck, bring your bitch-ass type brigade |
| Hittin them all, hand guns and hand grenades |
| (?) man that’s wanted for murder |
| Got your block locked down, so don’t come any further |
| In my clip is a .22 dum-dum |
| Oh yeah, I seen your moms, I hit her off with a jum |
| Know what I’m sayin? |
| Fret it or forget it |
| (?) fly so I’ma still get paid, I don’t sweat it |
| I’m every MC’s nightmare manifestin |
| A little shorty pushin the fact that I’m best in This shit called hip-hop, raise the throne |
| Kid, don’t front, I got you open in your dome |
| Rest in peace to my niggas in the East |
| And all the real niggas that was shot by beast |
| Around the way all we do is spark mad ism |
| Ladies be like, Yo, he’s Buckshot right there, that is him |
| But let’s get with the cipher, kid, pass the eight |
| So I can wet my lungs and blow smoke in your face |
| Word to Jah, niggas can’t touch me, kid |
| Cause I’m too nice to do bids or ever hit skid |
| Fronts in the bottom of my teeth like whatever shit |
| On the real, gettin played, what, I never did |
| Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real niggas |
| The field niggas get the muthafuckin ill triggers |
| Word to Herb, lick shot with my verb |
| And keep my hand on my grip when I play the curb |
| I never got caught by a undercover DT |
| (?) can’t see me You grab mics from the ones I left broken |
| Kid, don’t front, you know I got you open |
| Late at night I catch a buzz, then I write |
| The type of ill shit to make the mind feel tight |
| And be wantin to battle like every five minutes |
| But I’m in this like Guiness so that ass get finished |
| Straight from the floors of hell, feel the flame |
| You faggot ass, I heard your nickname’s Blaine |
| I hit your brain and you felt the pain, maintain |
| When it comes to a battle you know the Buck reigns |
| I vocal-throw the flow, niggas be like, Yo, how’d you do that? |
| Bitches be like Yo who that, you’re all that, yo, true that |
| Never forget that I’m the one you thought wouldn’t make it I used to make money, now I just take it I do what I gotta do to bring you to the concrete |
| Buckin niggas down cause they think shit is sweet |
| I keep a Tec whenever I’m in the projects |
| Ease out, then flex, in effect like Wreckx |
| Buck to your head, now die is my slogan |
| Don’t front, you know I got you open |