| Well alright
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| Ha, ha
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| Well alright
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| All across the U.S.C
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| Compton monster west
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| Pomona I. E
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| Vallejo, what ya say
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| Sacramento, Fresco, they know
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| I walked through the shadow of satans
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| Straight out perpertrators
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| Well alright
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| Like federated
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| But often hated
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| I used to serve them fiends
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| Before I became a teen
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| I met the ghetto streets
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| And I was cold as ice cream
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| Ghetto orientated so when street music originated
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| Built like pieces of puzzles complicated
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| I’m like Fred G. Sanford
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| This is a big one honey
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| I’m coming to join ya with some birds and money
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| That I just jacked from this fool
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| I see the snitch in his eye
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| Call me mister Candid Camera
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| Give a hater suprise
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| I know some homies big and back being boo
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| Some G’s kick, kack a shake groove
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| Don’t make me act a fool
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| I’m just a pimped ass fool smoking mega sacks
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| And we go back like dwarf hats and croaker sacks
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| What’s a studio player that’s really soft
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| It’s like the Dayton Wire without the eagle knockoffs
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| It’s like mixing Pop Rocks and 7 Up; |
| it don’t mix
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| Can I give these janky-ass fools a quick fix
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| I’m about
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| Making major papers
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| You’s about
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| Being a major hater
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| You busters can’t see me though
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| Game is air tight
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| It’s the world’s guinness book of haters
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| Lets dip under P, for perpertrators
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| Fool be colder than a roof on 95 hundred
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| I’ll jack your D’s and your girl if I want it
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| It’s the world’s guinness book of pages
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| Let’s flick under F, for straight out fakers
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| Cojones be colder than a roof on 95 hundred
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| I’ll jack yo D’s and your sack if I want it
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| It’s like radio
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| Sometimes they never play me
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| Until I went underground
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| Like Master P
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| Real O.G.s strictly for the homies in the game
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| No pain no gain
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| Just hoping that, Mr. Kane
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| Penetentiary chances
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| Ghetto advancements
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| I click my romeo’s three times
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| But I know I’m not in Kansas
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| I’m a jack of all trades
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| Master of 1
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| And the thing that I mastered
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| Is making everybody sprung
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| Many stanky ass record labels
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| Can eat a fat dizz-nick
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| Got some white college fool
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| Criticing my tune
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| Boy ain’t never been down to the ghetto
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| Where fools slang yayo out of broken down apartments
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| All of a sudden he’s head of the rap department
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| I slang my tapes out the trunk of my Impala
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| Well alright
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| Sell 50 000 units make a half a million Dollars
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| Fool be in my mix like paparazzo
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| Just because I went from rags to Tini 'n Asti Spumante
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| So forgive me if I diss your played out crew
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| Ya shouldn’t hate the next player getting theirs
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| When you can get yours too
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| I’m not never find the moment
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| Waiting for the next player to pay my bills
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| If I can’t get my respect I’mma kill at will
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| And that’s real, that’s real, that’s real
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| Went from rags to skyscrapers
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| Major papers equals major haters
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| Hmm, yeah
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| What Eazy say
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| The more problems you make, the more problems you get
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| I’m about
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| Making major paper
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| Use about
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| Being a major hater
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| You busters can’t see me though
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| Game is air tight
|
| It’s the world’s guinness book of haters
|
| Let’s dip under P, for perpertrators
|
| Fool be colder than a roof on 95 hundred
|
| I’ll jack yo Z’s and your girl if I want it
|
| It’s the world’s guinness book of haters
|
| Let’s flick under F, for straight out fakers
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| Fool be colder than a roof on 95 hundred
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| I’ll jack yo sack and your D’s if I want it
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| Ya understand that
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| We act like a payphone? |
| in here
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| From the land of sunshine and palm trees
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| Airbreak to shoe
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| And you don’t wanna fuck with me
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| You don’t wanna fuck with me
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| I must give it up for DJ Silk
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| Funky tie? |
| up for me
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| Airbreak to shoe
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| Woo, woo
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| Them gangster hits
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| We got what it takes, yeah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Major Papers , by - Kokane. Song from the album They Call Me Mr. Kane, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп