Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Goon Call, artist - Durag Dynasty. Album song 360 Waves, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 25.03.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Nature Sounds
Song language: English
Goon Call |
| This is kung fu, ninjitsu, hard body |
| Karate Shotty, pop off, street party |
| We think on the streets, Alchemist on the beat |
| Emptied out clip then pistol whip, you with the heat |
| This is kung fu, ninjitsu, hard body |
| Karate Shotty, pop off, street party |
| We think on the streets, Alchemist on the beat |
| Emptied out clip then pistol whip, you with the heat |
| Yo I got biscuits out the oven, piping hot huntin' |
| Start something dog Desperado, torque torsion |
| All the ghetto noise spark destruction |
| And embark them ghetto boys |
| To bring hammer head towards touch 'em |
| Nails in the cross for the sins, the mighty cross |
| The greedy double cross for that murky bubble love |
| And how was I to know the county jail was show & tell? |
| You tell me your hustle, I’ll show you where you failed |
| It was money first, no dishonor, live today, no tomorrow |
| Steal before you beg, clap with yo head before we bubble |
| Planking out on hunger pains, not eating they fun and games |
| DC in the bucket chain, these streets ain’t fuckin playin |
| Life on the line when it’s necessary |
| Went in the secondary, to the nature of God, the sanctuary |
| Hate to carry so much malice, method of madness |
| Bail and tell em no, rep for the turf, moment of silence man |
| Whoever said it’s lonely at the top never hit the bottom |
| I ain’t silver spooned, catch the niggas slippin got' em |
| Masonic art, PLR, extend sensors |
| Camouflage, hand grenades, M60's |
| Killa Sha, rest in peace, you’re not forgotten |
| Les Watson, Raymond James, Michael Jackson |
| Brown water, kush purple, halal, bust downs |
| Gold kufis, has blocks, my crack touchdown |
| Amsterdam, convent 125th |
| Yea, Golden Gate, Crenshaw, Malcolm X |
| The pot will block MLK, we keep it shit lick |
| Bulletproof, CLK, 7 6's |
| Peace God, hallelujah, Merry Christmas |
| Let’s build on all the stars and the planets, knowledge the distance |
| We got 4 billion, 400 million true and livings listening |
| The devil still Willie Lynch’n! |
| Ayo Sanskrit, sundown, supreme mathematics |
| Hollow tips dumped out, extreme biohazard |
| Money grant ministry, preach summers of misery |
| For mocking my delivery, hired killers from Italy |
| Soarin, drop em when the felt tip’s drawn |
| Then it’s cannons in yo grill, no affiliates to don, we the bomb |
| Itchin to blow, no, scratch that |
| Itchin for dough, the calamine is a fat stack payment |
| A product of the Reaganomic era gone crazy |
| Lookin at the man in the mirror, eyes hazy |
| Suicide samurai gamma ray |
| Plans gamified, thugs amplify the murder rate |
| Focus, the cadence of rhyme got you open |
| Like you just snort a line, I ain’t lyin, we the dopest |
| Burial ground town, 200 thou down |
| Surround sound, crash loud, sick as a mad cow |
| We beefin, salmonella leakin' out the speakers when I’m speakin' |
| Read between the lines of the teacher |
| This is kung fu, ninjitsu, hard body |
| Karate Shotty, pop off, street party |
| We think on the streets, Alchemist on the beat |
| Emptied out clip then pistol whip, you with the heat |
| This is kung fu, ninjitsu, hard body |
| Karate Shotty, pop off, street party |
| We think on the streets, Alchemist on the beat |
| Emptied out clip then pistol whip, you with the heat |