| 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 |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Black Out , by - Deadly Venoms. Song from the album Venom Everywhere, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп