Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Stoned Iz The Way, artist - Black Moon. Album song Total Eclipse, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.10.2003
Record label: Duck Down
Song language: English
Stoned Iz The Way |
Stoned is the way of the walk |
In New York, shit is real, number one, grime this meal |
Now I’m for real, my mind’s designed to kill |
Like muthafuckas who behind them chills, and I’m still |
Settin' it off, lettin' it off, begin it |
Rough til my ending, leavin' in trust linen |
Little Buck, bad ass fuck, whatever now |
Got smart with the hustle, shot clever now |
Set 'em down, make way for the king |
Hailin' from New York, New York, the big city of schemes |
Man, I’m mean, it’s so many rumors, cause I |
Stay fly, and do crimes, with alibi |
That’s why, y’all be lookin' like, y’all them Brooklyn Knights |
You know the type, gettin' niggas on or off the night |
So get on it right, cause we off the chain like bikes when they stoled |
And all of my niggas like when it’s cold |
Cause in the winter, I begin to, alotta other shit |
Now BDI means Buck Does It |
Hennessey, you guzzle it, cause wasn’t this, the recovenent |
If it ever was, we covered it, we thuggin' it |
Like Joe and the R, no film, but y’all can still get shot |
When you pose on your car, slow up pa |
You should get you dough up, pa |
So I can stick ya like a blow up doll, now grow up y’all |
Bidididididi-da-di-day, bidididididi-da-di-day |
Stoned is the way ---- of the walk |
In New York, shit is real |
And everywhere you go, you know the deal |
Now let me show you how the East Coast rock |
Better yet, how these toasts pop |
Keep frontin', and your magazine team don’t need those props |
Only mag' I need is on machine gun tops, now take it back |
You said something? |
I said it back |
And next time it’s a bomb, in your watch, when you send it back |
We the true Men in Black, cause we don’t wear suits |
And ties, when we shoot you guys, in fact |
It’s still Timbs and Carhart jeans |
With my team in the dark art beam |
Man, you know how hard I scheme, to get cream |
To get this far and come off with a jar of steam |
That’s y’all dream, shit, pardon me |
I got to make moves in the game, give a fuck about losin' the fame |
Better yet, losin' ya brain, the more or less, losin' ya name |
Cause you won’t be losin' no pain, who movin' this mayne? |
Caught up in the street life, everybody think it’s a sweet life |
I mean, it’s sweet, if you eatin' right |
But nine times out of ten, the mind tricks the body again |
The body go for the shotty to win |
The brain split, ain’t shit, niggas talk alot |
But loose lips sink ships, and you about to drop |
And I don’t mean no record, be double o, be double you |
We never know, he never knew, check it |
Boots and jeans, all hoops and dreams |
The ghetto model just to get out of the ruthless scene |
We call the hood, so it’s all good, I hustled up state |
In the woods, with po' nine, put your face in the mud |
I had to grind, double time, get mine, listen to dudes |
That shine, movin' through them ruthless times |