Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Channel 10 , by - Capone-N-Noreaga. Release date: 16.06.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Channel 10 |
| It takes nothin' but a hot slug to fill a villian |
| 'Cause I’m about to make a killin' |
| Some weed to escalate the feelin' |
| I regulate the dealin' jealous niggas hate the feelin' |
| I stack my safe appealin' jake on my trace I’m peelin' |
| And with a MAC I had the whole fuckin' nation kneelin' |
| Embrace the wheel and hit a buck without crashin' fuck |
| My drug passion got a nigga stashin' fast what |
| One love to Hillbillies, run forever out to Chile |
| Playin' the cuts nigga what can’t stop the willy |
| Cops harassin' niggas blastin' while the day' passin' |
| Time for action cock the mac what a satisfaction |
| Shoot laughin' slug caught up in the chest gaspin' |
| Nigga blanked out chopped before he start rappin' |
| Microchips in the celly the game don’t stop (don't stop) |
| Tappin' in your bank funds with the laptop (laptop) |
| Wanna own a block before the ball drop (ball drop) |
| Arab Nazi puttin' hits on the cops (x2) |
| Noreaga talking: |
| Word up son fucked up son word up Trag. |
| I know you know us both man but it |
| Took the penal for us to click youknowhatI’msayin'? |
| (yeah y’all met up |
| North) KnowhatI’msayin' we had to meet up north (know what’s real about all |
| This though that…) What real about it? |
| (we were young we strive we trying |
| To eat knowhatI’msayin'?) God degree (we got a lot of fake niggas out man) |
| 7−3 and 12 jewels. |
| Niggas ain’t bustin' that heat man. |
| Niggas just frontin' |
| Yo they ain’t bustin' they heat they know who they is. |
| (I'm tellin' my…) |
| Know who they is. |
| (yo word is born) |
| C.N.N. |
| network channel 10 it’s on again |
| Street niggas that’s grown men |
| Bold face gat in your face stay in your place |
| Yo crime-laced, catch more beef than Scarface (x2) |
| Court case illegal minds too late |
| Back in '92 (you remember Juice son?) |
| I bucked toast and got locked General Emanuel |
| Cell block cold crop |
| Go bagged up weak by cream cop |
| (FUCK THE WORLD) The way the world cold dissed me |
| Haile Selassie, Papi, locked with posse, call up Khadafi |
| Collect call from Arab Nazi, the Foul Mahdi |
| You relate in jail gate (what what, what what!) |
| Them new jacks they comin' through |
| Scared to death from the jail stories that’s true |
| You cold weak, live life on the street |
| While locked up, homoed out with pink sheets (bitch nigga!) |
| Discrete, in your cell, shook to sleep |
| I wiled out, no doubt, 'til the day I’m out |
| Me personally, (what!) I did three kid you weak |
| Your station in P. C |
| Outro: |
| Son fuck this jail shit so tell 'em about the streets son (echo) |