Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dyin' 4 Rap, artist - Cuban Link. Date of issue: 16.01.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dyin' 4 Rap |
| Dyin 4 Rap, the remix saga, throwin shots to the top |
| Catch you comin out ya Bentley drop |
| Run up, open a block, empty the Glock |
| I’m Dyin 4 Rap, rap niggas nailed to the cross |
| If you Christ to the game, nigga, die for the cost |
| Send flames out to S-5, killin ya Porsche |
| Took a step back from the game, watch ya flip |
| Did a few flips, fucked a few chicks, you can’t fuck wit me |
| Bullet to bullet baby, check the Glocks |
| Spit slugs, one after another, play «connect the shots» |
| Cock the flame, had another doc to range |
| Make ya head rest part of ya brain, like that |
| Bulletproof rap, rap wit a gun in my back |
| Two g’s got niggas still throwin they gats |
| Once you cross to the other side, I’m bringin you back |
| I’m Firestarr, and I’m Dyin 4 Rap |
| To America’s system, I’m a double pharoah |
| I speak wisdom, rebellin on the BC spit |
| My intuition on streets, keep bitchin |
| Push the hottest structure, deep dishin, stack dollars and buck |
| Shootouts, got the hood hot as a fuck |
| My criminal demeanor, got snagged and tash, sizin me up |
| Searchin the Beamer, niggas question who I run wit |
| A vest, a tech, an extra gun clip |
| What you say might get your son hit |
| Queensbridge, where my duns live |
| Kiam was destined to rule, since my mother’s stomach |
| Understand what I am, a prophet, poetical target for sabotage |
| You can’t stop me, gorilla at large, fuck a murder charge |
| I spray at ya block, I spray at the cops |
| I’m a hater, ya wrist shinin and I fuckin spray at ya watch |
| I’m grimy, I’m sick of being broke, I’m sick of short sells |
| I’m representin jail murder to coke pots on the stoves |
| Them niggas Dyin 4 Rap, rap dyin for me |
| You can’t see me a muthafucka, hot as me |
| You see me dip through the traffic and I turn it up |
| Them chicks takin ecstacy to suck my nut |
| Straight gangsta, niggas compare me to Suge |
| But they say I’m for fouler, yea they should |
| I got the «What? |
| What?» |
| about to fade the hood |
| I still got coke on the streets, you know I’m good |
| I’m from Queens, infrared beams and car hard jeans |
| Them niggas Dyin 4 Rap, rap dyin for me |
| This ain’t no battle of the beats, this a battle of heat |
| Battle in the streets, battle til we six feet deep |
| Outlaw warrior, yea Makaveli train |
| Niggas mad how we rob, Makaveli’s the blame |
| Niggas Dyin 4 Rap, I’m dyin to snap |
| Life was a game of dice, niggas dyin to crap |
| You dyin to ride dick, you dyin to lie spit |
| From dyin to bar quick, get off my dick |
| I’m like a fire starter, I wet ya car wit Firestarr |
| And garment before the cops’ll call |
| Shot you far dog, ain’t no runnin away |
| Wit Pac involved son, it can be done today |
| Thug we dyin for the cause, burners told you Outlaw |
| Young Nob', stayin raw, and it’s wall to wall |
| Yo I’m the Spanish casanova, livin leathers |
| 24 Karat toke a far from marriage, in Paris |
| We talkin parrots on my shoulder, hold up |
| The mellow holdin is Cuban, it’s takin over, I thought I told ya |
| I’m doper then coke without the bakin soda |
| Drunk or sober, jump out the Rover, and fold you wit a crowbar |
| Throw a rope around ya neck, and do what Sosa did to Omar |
| So far, my reportoire, got respect in no parts |
| Like Joan of Arc, if you turn apart, rollin til dark |
| It’s Terror Squad, from the start til I come across God |
| No holds barred, most niggas got balls but no heart |
| Who wanna run wit the dot dada, nigga come holla from the Bronx |
| Where they gun down punks for one dollar |