| Straw… 354… Ghost…
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| Feel this… yeah
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| Let me break it down I’mma nigga to Ryde or Die homey
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| 2 Gunz Up or they either on my side homey
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| I ain’t first base so I won’t let you slide on me
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| I ain’t Great Adventure so I won’t let you Ryde on me
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| You opened ya mouth but believe I can shut it nigga
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| P ain’t the barber but ya face I can shut it nigga
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| Spent a half a million on the lawyer nigga
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| Extraordinary Gentlemen just like Tom Sawyer nigga, yeah
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| Bust the rifle from far away
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| And I’m still tryna figure the triflin’est part of day
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| Is it morning when the fiends cop
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| Or is it noon when the willies wake up from they dream ock
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| Or is it night time when we all grind till the green come
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| I’m smoked out with a machine gun
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| I’m in something all black know I’m always on the lean son
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| Steady lookin' for the cream ma
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| And I’m probably with a bad bitch
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| But I’m usually for delf where I’m headed where the cash is
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| When you come through the hood get a pass like Steve Nash kid
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| Cause shit thicker than molasses; |
| get blasted
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| They say you only really as good as ya last rhyme
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| So I make sure my next one bring back time
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| So niggas can reminiese when they last had shine
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| Through my lines see that’s heart felt
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| Make a cold heart melt
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| Gring ain’t for everybody homie get a new route
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| Re-in' with the same shit you only see the same shit
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| 'Se goin' through them shoot outs my niggas did the same shit
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| And they bang 'fits and they 'on't care who you came with
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| Me I just happen to spit and got a knack for flippin' packs on the strip
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| Turnin' rags to chips put that hawk in ya face 'fore I squeeze my clip
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| I 'on't clap back I pop first read my lips
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| 3−5-4 nigga the shit so tell ya men
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| And for my nigga P I’m puttin' it in till this shit end
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| You know what it is one for the Block two for the Team
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| Screamin' 2 Gunz Up while I’m strippin' ya gleam yo
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| Ever since Straw small truck the mercedes
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| You’d think that I’d be dumpin' a pump the way it drive the streets crazy
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| The flows crack 60 for a verse is a pack
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| And 16 keep the fiends comin' back
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| It got me where I can’t be without my hard hat
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| Teflon long sleeve and a large gat
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| Heat seekin' shells attract to ya body heat
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| And even bullet time couldn’t help you dodge that
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| It’s too easy niggas can’t handle my beef it’s too greasy
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| 500 SL Benz with 3 TVs
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| Narc scope radar lens with green screens; |
| built in beams
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| And some eagles in the trunk with the money and caine
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| Tryna figure out the best route boat or tha train
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| Cause wit 9:11 crime feds watchin' the planes
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| It’s them Arliss boys at it again, immaculate mane
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| Comin' to box the S knockin' A Tribe Called Quest
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| I’m comin' for you bad guys like I’m Elliot Ness
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| I’m with the host the Ghost
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| We gave you toast to coast it’s 354 bitch you supposed to know
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| I got it, you get it, you pay it, I spray it, you wit it
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| There never been a time in my life that I couldn’t get it
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| Still got my eye on the prize, still in the hood with them guys
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| Still got the hood and gloves, the ski mask for diguise
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| Motherfuckers been hatin' you ready to dance with Satan
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| The Rugers cocked; |
| I’m patiently waitin'
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| P just gimme the word on these herbs that’s my word
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| Mail his head to his mom in a jar that preserve
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| Hannibal Lector style nigga dinner served
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| Still got birds with curves that move birds
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| Gucci frame Donna Karen bitches that’s nerds
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| Get in where yo fit in motherfucker that’s my word |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Discipline , by - D-Block. Song from the album D-Block CD/DVD Mixtape, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп