Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Danger, artist - Dj Kay Slay. Album song Hip Hop Frontline, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDanger |
| Yeah |
| It’s The Unit, niggas |
| It’s Buck, nigga |
| The captain of the motherfuckin' ship, nigga |
| Salute to the whole god damn state of New York |
| You niggas know what time it is |
| Nah, fuck that, I’m goin' first, nigga |
| You pussy niggas go and put this in your purse, niggas |
| Real killas, hey 50, look, we done birthed niggas (Woo) |
| Them bring that 40 Glock to church niggas |
| Get on your knees, pray to Allah and go and murk niggas |
| Potatoes on the barrel, duct tapin' these big clips |
| When we together you know how bloody this shit gets |
| It’s been a while since niggas been stabbed on TV |
| Now BET and MTV happy to see me |
| The unit, by now you niggas should be used to it |
| I guess I gotta play the tape back and let you view it |
| Take these bullets out this K back and let you do it |
| Take these brick walls and see if you can shoot through it |
| Positivity didn’t build the Statue of Liberty |
| I’m all in Brooklyn, bustin' my gun, hidin' my identity |
| Re-in' up on heron in Harlem, it ain’t no tenor key |
| Cashville country nigga, look what Queens done to me |
| Oh, somebody 'bout to die, I could feel it, nigga (Woo) |
| I got a bag for my shooters to go and kill a nigga (Bang, bang) |
| Headshots when they pull them sticks out (Woo) |
| Mexico still gettin' them bricks out (Whoa) |
| Free El Chapo, they still traffickin' |
| He ain’t die when you hit him, he gotta get clapped again (Shoot 'em again) |
| Mask on, no face, no case (Woo) |
| The pastor at his funeral looked like Ma$e (Haha) |
| These false prophets is gettin' younger |
| Y’all keep givin' 'em your money, y’all dumber and dumber (Stupid) |
| I got the work on the stove next to the cornbread |
| Plottin' on my opps, I want 'em all dead |
| I remember days when I couldn’t remember days (What else?) |
| Livin' so fast them memories tend to fade |
| Back in my beginnin' stage (Uh huh), way before the hype |
| Holy water on my neck so I pray with all my ice (Yup) |
| I made up for the nights I couldn’t pay for mama lights |
| It was shade like Barry White or either take us on a heist, yeah |
| Niggas jokers that I never interacted with (Never) |
| Never switched my tactics, get the bag and rip the plastic (Shit) |
| Five hour trips, put the addy in the navi shit (What up?) |
| Now it’s power trips, put the Caddy down the Cali strip |
| So watch me, I’m too potent, Ziplock me |
| My reality ain’t the TV, they couldn’t Love & Hip Hop me, nah |
| Hip-Hop the culture, this thing of ours |
| Started in the streets of New York City |
| And spread worldwide |
| A platform for us kids in the ghetto to have a voice |
| And express ourselves |
| However we chose to |
| You see, you can’t judge anyone |
| If you never walked in their shoes before |
| And unless you’re willin' to buy them some new shoes to walk in |
| Then you need to shut the fuck up |
| I grew up with them nigga |
| That performed them gang rituals |
| Woulda presumed it was for residuals, pitiful enough |
| It was just so one of us could hammer the throwaway |
| And bust another one of us for geological preference |
| Ideological adolescents, hood investments |
| I thank the most high for OGs that demonstrated reverence and respect |
| And relevance was a death to new faces |
| Seemingly out of place throwin' rocks at the penitentary |
| Could they stop us? |
| Eventually |
| Basketball scores and placement |
| Nigga bumped you to the pavement |
| Who woulda thought a trip to the basement |
| Would pan out a young black man’s life wasted |
| So just in case we planned ahead |
| Swearin' to the man upstairs |
| Anything against us (Dead) |
| Time comes for somethin' you said |
| It’s '99 when you fucked with the feds |
| Fuck that shit |
| Me and Jesus got somethin' in common |
| He lugged a big cross |
| Fish poppin' out the Porsche |
| Lookin' like Jaws |
| Diamonds from the district leavin' no flaws |
| Marble floors, bartender whores (Yeah) |
| Premeditated wars have you up north (Yeah) |
| I’m teflon cut, niggas velvet soft |
| Friends turned foes, now it all make sense |
| 'Cause some hoes fight harder than they pimps |
| Ya feel me? |
| Hit the shepherd and the sheep afraid |
| Turn his SUV into Swiss cheese |
| I turned the Maybach Benz on |
| Pockets all fat, boy, see more checks than Dre mom |
| Fake gangsters behind computers |
| G5 takin' off like Max Julien |
Artist lyrics: Dj Kay Slay
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