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