| Water, jar, coke, soda
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| Fire, pot, stir, slower
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| Ice, fluff, whip, boulder
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| Dry, cut, bag, over!
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| Don’t tell me that it’s
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| Baby boy, you on the grind, find a back block
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| Cop a hoopty, go see Louie for a stash spot
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| I’m posted up until they come and get this last rock
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| I toast it up wit' my niggas on the strip wit' me
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| for my good niggas, that’s history
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| Man, I don’t check the mail without that fifth wit' me
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| It’s sixteen in that thing and it spit fully!
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| We out here runnin' from the man, duckin' all them vans
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| Takin' care of all the homies stuck up in the can
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| Sittin' in somebody kitchen cuttin' up these grams
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| If you ain’t never seen it, boy you wouldn’t understand
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| Safe in that stash house tuckin' all them bands
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| Hoodrats watchin' but we pluckin on they hens
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| Money over hoes, nigga G’s up
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| Lawyer money, pocket money and that re-up
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| Jackpot, I run the crack spot
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| Fiends runnin' back and forth to get these blacktops
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| Jackpot, I run the crack spot
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| Nobody leavin' 'til the finished wit' that last rock
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| Ain’t a damn thing change, I’m out here gettin' change
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| It’s a part of the game, boy I’m out here in the rain
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| The hood know my name, boy and my shit ring
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| Since I don’t play no games, boy I let that shit ring
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| It’s rules to this shit, a step by step booklet
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| To get yo' game on track, not yo' wig pushed back
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| Yeah I make that coke leave, then make that shit come back
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| I’m Fat Joe on that stove, gotta get, cook, crack!
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| I’m tryna get it, let some fiends hit it
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| Let 'em lean wit' it, make sure they Bean wit' it
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| If they become a Rocket, then we Hakeem wit' it
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| Post up e’rywhere and let that Dream wit' it
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| Hurricane Sandy, I flood the scene wit' it
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| Yo' white girl dirty, my baby clean wit' it
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| Environmentalists, I’m gettin green wit' it
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| And it’s never over when everythings finished
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| I see you gettin' paper, see you out here trappin'
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| But if you ain’t on my team, anything can happen
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| I ain’t out here rappin' to be rappin'
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| I’m rappin' cause this is the new way of trappin'
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| Baby boy, I get it crackin'
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| Get ya head busted, get ya face smacked in
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| Ya boy so hood, my old lady packin'
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| Anyway, back to that trap, I ain’t slackin'
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| Just got a new package and broke it into fractions!
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| Got the block jumpin', Blake Griffen action
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| You got 'em like CP3, they all passin'
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| You ain’t got that fire, you sellin' wet matches
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| I don’t sell duds, e’rybody blasted
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| Don’t hate me homie, don’t hate the game
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| Hate yo' connect homie, he gave you the 'caine
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| Or maybe it’s yo' wack whip game that’s to blame
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| Or maybe it’s just me motherfucker, I do my thaaang! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Crack Spot , by - Joell Ortiz. Song from the album House Slippers, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп