Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mozambique , by - Ghetts. Release date: 06.07.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Mozambique |
| Umnqundu wamapolisa sana |
| Ndithe umnqundu wamapolisa |
| What’s wrong with these neeks |
| Man can’t tell me about these streets |
| Man never grew up near no damn beach |
| Mans got shooters from Mozambique |
| Shoot off nose and beak |
| So you roll in peace |
| But if you gotta sutten to say |
| Do not hold on please |
| They' say death comes in twa |
| So I do not roll in threes |
| Are you lot dying to piss |
| Cah you look like your holding pees |
| Pull up stolen jeep |
| Hood up phone the police |
| Push up your bolt and bleed |
| I heard they cook up the coke and leave |
| Mans going in there now |
| I’m just up the road indeed |
| I swear I search everywhere |
| Like I’m looking for phone and keys |
| Knife in the wind |
| Poke and breeze |
| I wish your girl never saw that |
| Poor candice |
| Four man deep |
| One felt froggy and saw man leap |
| Run tell donnie and crawl back week |
| All that week |
| Oooohhhhhh that’s week |
| Hole in your brain |
| You ain’t gotta thought deep |
| Man think I’m missing the drop |
| What I caught the clean |
| I don’t know bro |
| I don’t know |
| Speak the streets bro |
| Only way dawg |
| Cops don’t know |
| Pay the streets dough |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Make some real mean dough |
| Make some real mean dough |
| I don’t know bro |
| I don’t know |
| Speak the streets bro |
| Only way dawg |
| Cops don’t know |
| Pay the streets dough |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Make some real mean dough |
| Make some real mean dough |
| What’s wrong with these man |
| Can’t tell me about 28 gram |
| Grew up on curry and rice not ham |
| Man I got shooters from Pakistan |
| Shoot shoot off after your fam |
| Rooftop like Taliban |
| So let me give you lot some advice |
| And stop stunting like Jackie Chan |
| Yeah, they say you are what you eat |
| And I still aint been Hakkasan |
| And ask them who started the beef? |
| I ain’t slid rounds there, that’s the plan |
| Roll up, stolen Magane |
| Whole lotta smoke for your gang |
| Folding notes in my hand |
| Yeah I told him phone me up when it lands |
| Yeah this beefs kobe cut from japan |
| Whole leap of cuts on my hand |
| You can put me in the world cup final |
| And I throw headbutts like Zidan |
| No if’s, but’s I’m the man |
| Toolbox loading the van |
| Fam, All of this bullshit just cos he owed him a grand |
| Come tru, 20 man deep |
| Silence, can’t hear any man speak |
| Nightmares, can’t get any more sleep |
| Forget those who got buried last week |
| I keep things sweet |
| On my table I let every man eat |
| And I wish I has a girl who would let a man cheat |
| I don’t know bro |
| I don’t know |
| Speak the streets bro |
| Only way dawg |
| Cops don’t know |
| Pay the streets dough |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Make some real mean dough |
| Make some real mean dough |
| I don’t know bro |
| I don’t know |
| Speak the streets bro |
| Only way dawg |
| Cops don’t know |
| Pay the streets dough |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Sell some real green dope |
| Make some real mean dough |
| Make some real mean dough |
| Mina I’m from South Africa, hheey Mandela |
| Lomfana fun’ivisa ungqhelikaka |
| And’na xesha lama simba wodwa |
| Ndizomshiya |
| Ndizomshiy' ephansi |
| Kakade naleya ncanca iyasindwa yodwa |
| IBalls, zinzima |
| [Me, I’m from South Africa |
| Hey Mandela |
| This guy wants freedom to mess around |
| What the fuck |
| Ima leave his ass |
| I’ma drop him fast |
| Aaa did anyway his balls are bigger than his dick |
| He has a Winnie |
| And the balls are heavy] |
| Stared in the face of death |
| Man dem told me I’m stupid |
| So many years of breath |
| I’ve only been shot by Cupid |
| Can’t tell man about |
| Kuff cuff queff |
| You only hear them tings in music |
| Round ere you can tek a wrong left |
| Victim of a shooting |
| How they tryna tell man about cheff |
| Like I ain’t made food out of human |
| Like man ain’t looked in my grill |
| And I ain’t had to Barbeque dem |
| What can they tell man about crack |
| Ask Danny and Susan |
| What can they tell man about trap |
| Like I weren’t trapped in this foolish illusion |
| Feds never had no evi (evidence) |
| My man still got twenty |
| They never found nobody |
| They don’t know where it’s buried |
| Bad boys from the Uk we don’t drive no Chevy |
| Can’t call a foreign a foreign unless it’s a rari like ballotelli’s |