Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Desperados, artist - Hus KingPin. Date of issue: 26.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Desperados |
| You ever dance with the devil under the pale moonlight? |
| Desperados, travellin |
| What the fuck’s up son? |
| We could do this word up, we could do this |
| Chrous: The Firm |
| Spend too many nights on the Henny gettin right |
| Breakin big face Bennies, bettin against the friendly dice |
| I can’t call it, it’s goin too good to spoil it Tell it like it is, the raw shit never recorded |
| At a thousand degree Celsius I make MC’s melt |
| Fuck my record label I appear courtesy of myself |
| Let me explain how I maintain thresholds to pain |
| I walk across the Sun barefoot lookin for shade |
| I rearrange your rib cage like a twelve gauge at close range |
| and change the position of your brain |
| My hard raps penetrate through your hardhats and all that |
| nigga, get ya wig peeled back |
| I scalp you like the indians on horseback |
| Running Bull will hit you harder than runningback |
| Stunning man with brave and cunning rap |
| Swiftly running laps around 48 tracks |
| Like uncut crack you fiends keep coming back |
| Heads is flippin like acrobats on gym mats |
| From wax to analog tapes to digital DAT’s |
| It’s critical black, that Canibus is ill like that |
| In fact perhaps you should quit rap, instead of always |
| tryin to diss back, cause niggaz keep tellin you that your shit’s wack |
| I rip raps, hardcore raps rushin you to the floor mat |
| Put you in the figure four, break your thorax |
| Jump off the top turnbuckle and land on your back |
| til I hear it snap or crackle, the ref says chill black |
| You get clapped bringin the wrong raps to combat |
| Like bringin a paint gun to a shoot out with real gats |
| Y’all niggaz is wack, rappin over microphone feedback |
| My intelligence begins where yours peaks at From Fox Boogie in the see-through brasierre, to Nasty Nas here |
| My nigga Nature’ll explain it further if it’s not clear |
| Millionaire look at the sky make sure it’s still there |
| Ice grill stares and my jewelry is in every year |
| Pierre Cardan back in a Dapper Dan time |
| Now flex, angle wrecks, Foxy rock Van Klein |
| Initiated to the Firm shit, real thugs learn quick |
| Sit back and feel the ultimate hit |
| Initiated to the Firm shit, real thugs learn quick |
| Sit back and feel the ultimate hit |
| Yo lock in, do the knowledge, follow the doctrine |
| We clockin, on your airwaves, keepin it rockin |
| Blaze up, make fire, light your Purple Haze up Betcha tired, bitch ass niggaz need to be caged up So raise up fuck the playin, I’m sick of layin |
| I can picture sprayin off an SK, shells ricochetin |
| Snatched up, in Supreme Court, eyes half shut |
| Co-defendant caught a life sentence, seem him crack up React what, who will, bail two mill' |
| Nigga cool still bet I’ll be home before the news will |
| Blast fuse and leave purple Frank Matthews |
| Perhaps you confuse the concept black, cash rules |
| Incog-ged, another had more deez involved |
| Known freeze condo seize seven keys dissolved |
| Daily routine, speakin up for niggaz who sling |
| Hand to hand on them street corners claimin you king |
| It’s time to lock this, join with us, let your glock spit |
| Guzzle the toxic, only fake niggaz drop snitch |
| Get your guns out, it don’t take much for me to dumb out |
| Play one route, lay ya shit down and run South |
| Here’s the cause of this shit, more statistics |
| Deeper than the laws of physics, Malibu sand, the gorgeous bitches |
| Weed from 1−2-5, my whole crew live |
| A true Desperado, one that never choose sides |
| and show sympathy, just QB, an entity |
| Stock exchange, top of the game, watch you mention me Image is nothin just obey your thirst |
| I blaze the Purple Haze, sit in a daze, then display your birth |
| For those concerned or just eager to learn |
| I speak for The Firm, was told to keep the cheeba to burn |
| Stashin my riches, past traditions, like Olympics |
| pass the torch flip shit so y’all could picture my thoughts, I’m driftin |
| It’s type ill wakin up lookin like filth |
| Twenty years younger same hunger same ice grill |
| Genetically form grade A pedigree |
| Born to carve rhymes, a swift tongue helped to set it free |
| Theoretically peep how we bless this, young and restless |
| Guns and westins, learnin to connect through lessons |
| From cool feats to camps, niggaz shoot back |
| It’s a proven fact, nine-seven's mine, y’all niggaz move back |