Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stoned Iz The Way , by - Black Moon. Song from the album Total Eclipse, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 06.10.2003
Record label: Duck Down
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stoned Iz The Way , by - Black Moon. Song from the album Total Eclipse, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопStoned 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 |
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