Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Out, artist - Deadly Venoms. Album song Venom Everywhere, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.01.2017
Record label: Echo International
Song language: English
Black Out |
We gon' ride while it’s hot ya’ll, first blood |
Do or die, to the top, ya’ll, you know I’m with it |
Spit bricks like a masonary, I masquerade |
So hold on tight, you headed for an escapade |
Intensive ride, any situation at hand |
Street knowledge, no game, only rock with my fam |
DV’s to the death, never backing us down |
And if you think it’s gangsta, come to my part of town |
You know the borough, QB never die |
But I’mma thug it out, so throw your V’s in the sky |
And get high, blacking out on this track |
20 parts more, so step the fuck back |
If your wack, keep that shit to a minimum |
Smack you with the mic, while the bass is killing 'em |
Murder murder, please on MC’s like the wind |
I hear you knocking but I’m not letting you in |
It ain’t the end, and if you blind, I’mma make you see |
Got you shook under pressure like you in the army |
So bitch please, you can never regulate this |
Have you running scared like that fucking Blair Witch |
It ain’t a game, Venom #1 is the name |
I get my head right spitting venomous flame |
I’mma get Rah like Digga, Flipmodes like Squad, my nigga |
And Lord is my name, Champ from the Venom |
Get the picture? |
Venom #4, get raw |
Raw is war, now the war’s on |
I’m like Rock from, WWF, if you can. |
Smell what I’m cooking, then play the left |
I’m like the princess warrior of rap, Miss |
Van Damme, kicking ass on rights |
I’m like a runaway train, throw your ass off track for real |
Rocks the World like fam boy will still |
Spitting Venom in your vein, stopping all thoughts from going |
Through your brain, nigga, it ain’t a game, it ain’t a game |
Nigga, word up, the streets is watching |
You was popping, wherever there drama, it ain’t no stopping |
Shorty but thug, this is for my thug, and what |
Oooh, get ya fingers out my butt |
Still on my shitlist, can I get a witness? |
Yeah, hitter, handle your business |
Now what? |
Venom, Venom, what what? |
Venom, Venom, what, what, what what? |
We gon' black out on this track, spit that |
20 bars never coming wack, so step back |
Hold it down when the snakes attack, we run that |
Get that, rip that, Pretty Thugs, where you at? |
I ramble on the tar heel, peep dudes paying up my bar meal |
I can tell you how a hundred thousand dollar car feel |
But I don’t brag on materialistics |
I rather rap about rubbing on grits and biscuits |
I think it’s lame, sippin' on expensive champagne |
I sip the beer, and my buzz be the same thing |
I like draft, like #1 picks do |
Lyrically I blow like snot in tissue |
I keep it plain, not a fly nail and hair chick |
Yet and still, when I’m out, nigga stare quick |
Rock stage with no rehearsing, I’m known for flirting |
Chickens rap and every other word they cursing |
One thing for sure, two things for certain |
You think we look good on TV, wait til you see us in person |
I was nice before Madonna was 'like a virgin' |
This lucky star get you open like a surgeon |
You on minimum wage working long hours |
I get paid plenty while your songs in showers |
Cuz mine is our, satisfied with what I got, forget mansions and yachts |
It draws too much attention to cops |
I can take off my Polo, look fly in an Izod |
For most to do that, they gots to try hard |
Get ready, for the flavor, I’m the pitcher |
Look up N-Tyce in the dictionary, see my picture |
Yeah, somebody check me in, I’m bout to pin this nigga to the mat |
Take that, your dirty rat, don’t be coming back |
WWF, what, what, Federation shit |
Sucking it, like DX Generation |
I’m more Vicious than Sid, split your wig |
Don’t be fronting, here I come, ohh, like Hacksaw Jim Duggan |
Ready to warn ya, I thought I told ya |
I murder the master who taught ya, so enter torture |
Agony and tragedy, and I ain’t even think about police bagging me |
New York Undercover, but I ain’t Malik Yova |
Bend that ass into pretzel formation, yo, you took yoga? |
What the deal, how you feel, looking over, looking over you shoulder |
The cops be dropping boulders, snatch your money, fold up |
Well it give it up, turn it loose, dirty deuce |
We a hundred percent proof, Smirnoff people |
Out of cable, next time, we ain’t soft |
More like them deadly chicks down to knock you off |
Take you to the roof, make you jump off |
To the last you lost, get off |
Who in the hell left the gate open? |
Chamel' of course |
Camouflaged out on the low, kids scoping you out |
Scoping you out, scoping you out |