Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Favorite Rap Stars, artist - Havoc.
Date of issue: 22.05.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Favorite Rap Stars |
My niggas flippin' it all day |
Either on the corners or up in the hallways |
Coke from Cuba, but they got it on Broadway |
Pitchers on the front stoop, shooters in the doorway |
…you a marble in the jacuzzi |
The elevator ride to the top’ll make you woozy |
Either shootin' the Uzi or the MK |
Starter in the game, you just get in when the bench play |
At your door with the four, «bonjour» like the French say |
Nigga you just plain, cut you up like a sensei |
Take you down like the statue at Penn State |
Get you off your feet like an Olajuwon head fake |
Come, come, comin' with Havoc to bring the havoc |
Lightin' the chronic, Techtronics and automatics |
Beware of the short niggas |
Yeah I’m cool, but I’ll motherfuckin' torch niggas |
All along… |
Been them niggas that been reppin' in your favorite rap songs |
Hold it for the hood, it’s money over broads |
And we hustle in the cold 'til the whole pack gone |
All along… |
Been them niggas that been reppin' in your favorite rap songs |
Hold it for the hood, it’s money over broads |
And we hustle in the cold 'til the whole pack gone |
I’m one in a million, diamond in the rough |
Supplying that stuff that got every whip that I drive |
Tough lion took steroids, olympian status |
Gold medalling them niggas, ain’t nothin' 'bout me average |
Cannons bigger than me, we go deaf when we shoot 'em |
And niggas on the floor with they cerebellum oozin' |
Every homie I brand with them featured on Gangland |
Ice picks in pencil pockets and nines on they waistbands |
Money over bitches, we smother then we ditch 'em |
I’ll have 'em bag 'em up, butt-ass in the kitchen |
I’mma leave bitches foamin' at the mouth |
Fuck what you heard, it wasn’t drought, they lied |
Over here it’s all the way gully |
In the morning, answer to God’s calling |
Snoring, I can’t afford to sleep, the cousin of death |
The city never sleeps, so why the fuck would I rest? |
It’s all about the motherfuckin' 'jects, Lex Diamond’s up next |
Pull up, clap and distract you |
Six cars away, yo, your brother in the back of the Ac' |
I move pistols, hold 'em like infants |
Jump out, rims, tints, guns is French, I can dent this |
Out in Moscow Seagal style, look at the pair |
Don’t stare when the chain is a watchtower |
We when we comin', ain’t a Glock pulled |
Rock the pyjama look |
So now drama look like an eye-full |
Coats Columbian with money in it |
Ruthless Gotti, leather gloves on, the Wallies is blue body |
Movin' through the dice game kickin' |
Should have mittens on |
Plottin' to dig in your pockets, we break niggas |
Jumpin' in the A8's with swish men |
Watches is Swiss, Chase Bank niggas |
Drop you and then sprint |
Don’t ever dare walk in front of me |
Cold as I wanna be |
An old nigga who pump where the money be |