Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Hiatus, artist - Diamond D. Date of issue: 11.06.2007
Song language: English
The Hiatus |
| Yo, I make people congregate like I’m off to a light |
| Roll at least 20 deep like I’m off to a fight |
| Frontin’off fake MC’s, busy caught in the hype |
| I sleep all day long, let em off in the night |
| Recline with dimes and chill, and blow me a breeze |
| While your broke ass is home eat-in bologna and cheese |
| Feelin like an idi’but its only the trees |
| Beat-in your girl in the head, please loan me the keys |
| While I be at the Pocono’s, strokin hoes |
| I had the wing-on shorty, and left his ass with a broken nose |
| Jelly cause I pull cinn-i-mon buns, I dig em out on the first night |
| Right? |
| Hit em and run |
| But not, without my rain coat |
| I continue to stack legal tender, while other MC’s remain broke |
| You lame jokes, came close, cause you hate us No longer on a hiatus |
| La-La-Lah-la-la |
| La-la-Lah-la-la |
| La-La-Lah-la--la-la |
| La-La-Lah-la-la |
| La-la-Lah-la-la |
| La-La-Lah-la--la-la |
| Chadio |
| What cha’ll know about the home, or the hop, to the hip |
| What cha’ll know about the home, or the glock, and the clip |
| BX, where I, see techs and G checks |
| Fightin and squeeze with the natural re-flex |
| Cru baby, forget about if, ands, and maybes |
| Bitin the seeds who like to bi-catch rabies |
| Bustin at all we try to bring the damn fall |
| See life aint all about rhymes and ram ball |
| It’s deeper than that, so I’m keepin the gat |
| Caught the evilest ones, who wanna sneak an attack |
| Come back like that cooked up crack and glass pot |
| Hot like you be sittin up in the hash spot |
| Blwowin spots like malator cocktail |
| Steal mic-ro-phones and lead glock shells |
| Bronx born, Bronx bred and Bronx raised |
| If you Bronx torn, Bronx dead in the Bronx grave |
| It’s all about my daughter, I wanna be able to say |
| I’ll order a champagne 5 and a quarter |
| So long live Cru and the Diamond in the Ruff |
| Section, we keep protection, never bluff |
| I’m infinite as an SP-loo, I’m feelin my self |
| Bronx with the shine and I’m Bronx with the rhyme |
| And if I’m Bronx with the crime nada, but over niggas |
| With my Lex and my Range Rover, nigga |
| I keep real simple now for all yall slow niggas |
| You can-not see me Chad or Diamond D Yogi got that, like Baby got back |
| Like Yogi got crack, lacin tracks to make it love all these gats (yeah) |
| Yall don’t wanna catch a pitch that’s wild |
| But I wanna catch a bitch that wild, and show that bitch my style |
| In the meanwhile its all about the hiatus, remix Diamond laced |
| I love the attention when playas hate us BX body X-rays but I can’t |
| Givin your riot a center phobia BX bringin extra |
| The love of what, like we be Diggin In The Crates, for tracks |
| We’ll be diggin in the crates for decks |
| But as I hit, a lot of real shit, I spit |
| As real as this tape I’m rhyming on, I quit |
| I have you know my Mansa |
| I have you wearing red socks like Boston |
| That’s my trick-a-down, ill |