| Before your mug turns, execution of slug perms
|
| Thugs yearn for the status in money that drugs earn
|
| Boys love searn, mission to stay above worms
|
| For the bread, chicks stay on they knees like rug burns
|
| We don’t tell jokes, better boat when ya smell smoke
|
| We illiterate hustlers we can’t even spell broke
|
| Youngstas sell dope and contribute to jail growth
|
| Snitches tell folks who working ending up in twelve votes
|
| Killas rush through, barricades that touch you
|
| Bullets crush you and persecute before bust you
|
| You’ll be sub-earthly, went to court and the judge search me
|
| They don’t love mercy; |
| cops are racist and blood thirsty
|
| They submit plans, hustlers get around like wristbands
|
| You ain’t gotta pay a hit man seventy-six grand
|
| In a big chance you better be slick with quick hands
|
| And try’na never sell a stand by the fan where the ship lands
|
| From the time the sunrise they devise no good
|
| If you a G then I know I just described yo hood
|
| If you not better watch where your drive or stand
|
| Or mess around and make a wrong turn in the wicked land
|
| When the war grows, more soul get foreclosed
|
| Cats are hard nose; |
| killas stay armed like torsos
|
| Cars blow, up in into spark modes of charcoal
|
| Narks roll through and beat up youngsta’s on dark roads
|
| Crammin try and grab thieves framing you finding scaps
|
| Cadavers on slabs being an examined in crime labs (yeah)
|
| And every picture the portraits a mad man
|
| Torturous bad man with corpses in trash cans
|
| Boy you Mr. Clean, plus you greener than Listerine
|
| You ain’t live to see the wicked extremes the pistol brings
|
| Houses fit for kings, bosses who have you kissing rings
|
| Explicit things the victims be hoping that it’s a dream
|
| But as sure as I’m rapping, this ain’t no tourist attraction
|
| The impurest of actions crafted by hooded assassins
|
| A mob target, they’ll spark it in his apartment
|
| Wife and daughter get home they’ll be walking the red carpet
|
| From the time the sunrise they devise no good
|
| If you a G then I know I just described yo hood
|
| If you not better watch where your drive or stand
|
| Or mess around and make a wrong turn in the wicked land
|
| We take hearts, and vacation in Saint Barts
|
| Breaking bank faults, we so wicked we shank thoughts
|
| See we fire straps, ammo try’na to frier cams
|
| Iron claps on the crying rath wearing wire taps
|
| Straight raw foes, high weapons inside clothes
|
| Can’t describe those, three shots but five holes
|
| Chasing pesos fools auction in they souls
|
| Try’na make doe, we got judges on payrolls
|
| Got the cerve famous, specializing in bird maintenance
|
| We serve daily stellify ducking the surveillance
|
| Pink shirt rippers, the enemy hersh flippers
|
| Better work with us, tricks try’na converse strippers
|
| Worldwide anthems, we too rugged to ride fathoms
|
| Haters dying, cramping, killers hiding inside mansions
|
| Then a slaughter move, you ain’t leaving you outta dude
|
| Will expose the intestinal fortitude part of you, yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Ya boy K-Rino
|
| This goes out to every ghetto every hood in the world
|
| Shoutout to my homie the Re-Up Entertainment
|
| Third Ward
|
| Erowid Homes
|
| Shoutout to the Brick Boyz, South Park, Fifth Ward
|
| Vice Lords, G’s, B’s & C’s, the VA’s
|
| Canna Court, Sterling Wood, Southeast |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wicked Land, artist - K Rino. Album song Annihilation of the Evil Machine, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп