Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song L'Amour East, artist - Ill Bill. Album song The Grimy Awards, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.02.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fat Beats, Uncle Howie
Song language: English
L'Amour East |
E Train, last call, 10 deep, left em drippin |
Blacking out, catching wreck, fly tags, speaks the Griffin |
Sneakers with Scotty Pippen, venomous probably just |
I’ve been the renovate, I’m still rockin still big fest |
Polo fresh, axo, polo bands axo |
Free dancing in the backstreet with our Glocks off |
Hard rocks, hammers and heaters, pick up the blocks wall |
Family objective being gold before the cops swarm |
Golden checks, never sex, we was not born |
Streets made us then they raised us, we are not born |
Gang shit was on the rise, but most my clique was neutral |
Go get a fucked up nigga why? |
Most my clique will shoot you |
Blam blam, without beats over bandana |
Bullets will make your face blurry like a back hammer |
Peace to Queens nigga, home of that fly shit |
Cop killa central, you got quick, wuddup tho? |
(Hook) |
Quarter to l’amour east, we all beasts |
From across seas to cross Queens, we all creeps |
We all we we all we we we we we we we all creeps |
Hibbie geebees to l’amour east, we all beasts |
Smoke PCP, kids get stabbed over graffiti beef |
Graffiti, graffiti, graffiti beef |
I took the 6 train killa bronze for infinity lessons |
With the rise of the crack riot had the vicinity stressin |
My zulu medallion over whatever we was wearin |
In the late 80's we wasn’t born wild, we was made crazy |
That movie Big Street was so misleading |
‘Cause some of the breakers I knew were stick up kids that leave you cold to |
bleeding |
It wasn’t a happier time, New York was a fuckin mess |
Little yellow envelope stuffed with skunk in chest |
Then I’m in the back of the B train with a full finger ring and a gold roll |
Didn’t look like a rapper, I looked like somebody that sold dope |
And maybe I did cuz back home was no hope |
But maybe because Rakim said he was no joke |
And I wanted to be just like the god |
Excelling my skill level, plus life was hard |
Dog it was more realer back then, you would even deal a rap |
The industry snatched from Brooklyn, I steal it back |
(Hook) |
Quarter to l’amour east, we all beasts |
From across seas to cross Queens, we all creeps |
We all we we all we we we we we we we all creeps |
Hibbie geebees to l’amour east, we all beasts |
Smoke PCP, kids get stabbed over graffiti beef |
Graffiti, graffiti, graffiti beef |
Double L train Kenassi, flip tags, drippy Marcus |
I be square connisee and 50 deep in king’s plaza |
Flat leavers, crack slingers, god pealers, rap singers |
Blasted Desert Eagles, turning tracks forever ether |
Walk aboard, plain Scotty new corpse, space fly that goon |
Sort they magic shrooms, more strange ethic soon |
Last container full, dog day afternoon |
Had to pay my dues, 4 James afterschool |
I snuffed John Hayes and finally kept a video |
Next to the alt steiner, Joey Haskall was with me too |
That was before the gunplay and dapper them jackets |
Bootleg Timbaland leathers and automatic ratchets |
Before all the automy no blew his face off |
Playin Russian roulette, have to be valued up a 8 Ball |
From child hunt to lead the hurricane king’s county |
From my hood to yours we represent it proudly |
Represent New York, represent Rowdy |
Represent my whole crew, represent Howdy |
(Hook) |
Quarter to l’amour east, we all beasts |
From across seas to cross Queens, we all creeps |
We all we we all we we we we we we we all creeps |
Hibbie geebees to l’amour east, we all beasts |
Smoke PCP, kids get stabbed over graffiti beef |
Graffiti, graffiti, graffiti beef |