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-хопDate 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) |