Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hold On, artist - Foreign Beggars. Album song Hold On, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 12.04.2009
Record label: Dented
Song language: English
Hold On |
| Hold on tight to what you own, cos there’s people like me outside your door |
| Hold on tight to what you own, cos there’s people like me outside your door |
| Step in the ring, blaze tracks slay bate twats |
| Make that train, wait back, spread an 8-track |
| Spitting out all kind of rhyme with the way that |
| Make any rapper wanna stop with the late chat |
| Nobody knows a nigga looking to bring by |
| You couldn’t even rock a tour with a play back |
| Foreign beggar fam over run as I take that |
| Rap Montana, write my name by the train tracks |
| Kit Kat rappers get bucked and bitch slapped |
| Crap rap guys, some wanna play flip-flap? |
| Sit back, coch, chit chatter, where the chick at? |
| Charge next man Ten Grand for a Tic Tac |
| Spit down lyric quick fast what a sick track |
| Ship-wrecked rappers get bucked with a big bat |
| Kill any mini-man dick with a shit gat |
| Spill a man’s guts with the face of a pick-axe |
| Woah? |
| coming on a bit gotta get a (lick sharp?) |
| Quick fix, bitch, then did a bit of crack rock |
| Red-hot rapper, nigga knock him out, he’ll spit raw |
| Lock up any amateur that wanna come shit talk |
| Rubba-dub-dub get dumped in the trunk |
| Armed with a mic and a big bag of punk |
| Jump up, run amok and then I’ll come with the funk |
| Make a hall stand up, fuck 'em up from the back to the front |
| From my earliest pillaging and scheming with mad men |
| Bad men from all the way from Erith to Camden |
| Challenging any man who wanna step on a track |
| And if he’s still talkin' shit I’ll get ready to lamp him |
| Big Mac rappers get smacked up in tandem |
| Acting like dons but they’re openly ramping |
| Jump up in the back of the car like he was strapped in |
| None of us panic, kill a man with my fat pen |
| Blud, I ain’t trying to prove nothing, move something |
| Too many man are left dead for nothing |
| Get battered up, whacked up, spurred for nothing |
| Beat down, hurt, or left murked for nothing blad |
| But thats just how tings were gwaanin |
| When a man said he’s a bad man from morning |
| Now wait till Sunday morning, his family’s in church, dressed in black; |
| mourning |
| Nobody had a chance to warn him coz he had just been |
| On stage performing and certain girl-dem had started to swarm him |
| And after that just sounds quite alarming |
| One brother said your a chief and yes you can |
| Tell that im looking beef coz i live around all the depression |
| On the streets my main stress relief |
| Bust one, and in your belly |
| Bust one, and in your teeth |
| And heap on anyone I’m looking to eat |
| Cos any idiot could have drawn the gun back |
| Lick out the barrel and make the gun clap |
| Me I just step at the mic and I run checks |
| Give them the eye and I shall return in a comeback |
| Mr Vulga asked me to guest track |
| Instead of me telling the man dem to get flat |
| The manor that I’m living in, yes I rep that |
| Anything I want in life yes I get that |
| Disrespect me, get disrespect back |
| Are you really from the ends blad? |
| Forget that |
| Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, |
| really, really, from the ends blad? |
| Forget that |
| Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, |
| really, really, from the ends blad? |
| Forget that |