Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Trump, artist - Cocoa Brovaz. Album song Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.03.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wu-Tang
Song language: English
Black Trump |
I had to get some real professionals for the job, son |
Numerous cats Word up |
That’s right Official niggas word up |
This is what you call Straight blazin through what |
Raise the roof is what we came to do Like hash browns |
Blazin through, blazin through Pass that African black gold over here |
Raise the roof is what we came to do |
Blazin through, blazin through You know how we rock |
Raise the roof is what we came to do Smiff-N-Wess-N-Lex set up shop |
Attack mode, time to strike like a cobra |
Poisonous venom into your system killin you slower |
Than niggas with blowers to your jugular |
My brother’s keeper but I put my brother to sleep |
If my brother try to creep up |
You know my son, show respect when I’m rockin the podium |
Steam-rollin on niggas, my team straight blowin em |
Got em Throwin they Gunz In The Air like Onyx |
Chef and Smiff-N-Wessun crime shit, New York’s finest |
Let me warn y’all killas upstairs |
I seen all y’all, heavy like fuck, thinkin my niggas might flaw y’all |
Blow ya ammo, Shallah seen the god fly commando |
Handle, gun on my leg, blow his hand off |
I’m lookin at you why, like «fuck, you probably think I’m high» |
Seems luck, chain around my neck, bought it from E-gypt |
Me what? |
Hennesy drink, mahogany guns, we treesed up |
Come out your shirt, buckle knees-up |
This Casablanca rap nigga throw some cheese up |
Let’s poly, slow-mo status, bring the keys up |
Wonderin, runners is lookin mighty fees’d up |
Right stupid, FBI sell em guns |
Make this money, niggas hold up guns |
Armed full of licks, plus your dick, drop your ones |
Baby need new shoes and a outfit |
I see you stick-up kids, you came wit the dick lick |
You see my set of twin-hitmen from Bushwick? |
Two chicks wit the twenty-two tecs, bitch |
You heard about em |
Now open up the circle so the dice can breathe |
Pay you double, if you triple, if you push you pay me |
Gotta poly wit ya crew to stack ya loot up |
Get your weight up, big up, pull ya boots up |
If you step into the club wit your guns up |
If the tension’s on your mind then raise the roof up |
You gotta keep it in the fam, stack ya loot up |
Get your weight up, big up, pull ya boots up |
When you step into the club wit ya guns up |
If the tension’s on your mind, then raise the roof up |
Raise the roof up, raise the roof up |
Never before we came to raise the roof up |
Raise the roof up, raise the roof up |
Still in all we came to raise the roof up |
Minolta flash |
Gun in the stash |
Rollin for mo' hash |
Tek, why you slap fire out em, hold fast |
These niggas gotta pay the hard way |
Three the hard way |
Allah swingin on em like a San Diego Padre |
You heard what the god say, let’s start this |
Professional marksman, swimmin like killa sharks |
We lethal and heartless |
On point like a dart, bitch |
Bomb your camp if you want this |
Connect wit convicts on some Don shit |
And spread the camouflage cats to get the money in Stat |
Go to war like Saadam if he pushes you that |
Keep his movements discreet when he out in the streets |
Had to stash built to high heat for those who creep |
Ha, peep the ghetto bastards |
Run in your crib like two masked men |
I run wit a Tek, and we ain’t askin, we blastin |
Chef brought the extra cannon from Staten |
Rhyme official live broadcastin, makin it happen |
You gotta make power moves, black guns and cash rules |
Hold my eight straight cuz I been payin dues |
Wave king from way back tryin to make a mill stack |
Miami money cats that leave you layin down flat |
Gotta poly wit ya crew to stack ya loot up |
Get your weight up, big up, pull ya boots up |
If you step into the club wit your guns up |
If the tension’s on your mind then raise the roof up |
You gotta keep it in the fam, stack ya loot up |
Get your weight up, big up, pull ya boots up |
When you layin in the cut wit ya guns tucked |
If the tension’s on your mind, then raise the roof up |
Raise the roof up, raise the roof up |
Never before we came to raise the roof up |
Raise the roof up, raise the roof up |
Still in all we came to raise the roof up |
It’s on again |
Word up, put your hands down |
Word up, this shit is multi |
Y’all gonna see it, word up |
Smiff, Wess, Lex |
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire |
From the projects, phony projects |
Next! |
(We don’t need no water, like the Cocoa B’s burn) |
(Gotta poly wit your crew to stack ya loot up) |
(Get ya weight up, big up, pull ya boots up) |
(When you step into the club wit the guns up) |
(If the tension’s on your mind, then raise the roof up) |