Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jankrowville, artist - Klashnekoff. Date of issue: 20.04.2009
Song language: English
Jankrowville |
| You know the status, players hate us, the coppers chase us |
| The capers dangerous, but like faith, forever changing |
| Like faces, this is alpha-beta basics |
| A burst verse, the first matrix, disperse wicked words of hatred |
| 'Cause I’ve worked for the worst wages |
| Brethrens hold a bird and go berserk in the bird cages |
| Conniving neighbours, navigate skate like gators |
| Scavengers and jankrows feeding off the natives |
| Negroes stay negative, I guess that’s relative |
| It all relates to the life that where we live |
| East maze metric where my mind stays sick |
| From this city to the sticks there’s stack of lunatics |
| Lucy’s with dicks, cats who use crucifix to seduce chicks |
| And you can find this where I live |
| In Jankrowville where the streets are paved with shit |
| And cats getting shivved on the night shift |
| I’m swift like Mickey Super |
| The black Russian spits slugs like German Luger, war torn Stormtrooper |
| Making tracks as we manoeuvre |
| Moving further to the future with a bucky for the Lucifer |
| Yeah, you know the Saga, panorama drama, piranhas |
| Parrow cats on contract from the Bahamas |
| Bad man that look harmless, but inside you find they’re heartless |
| Split you like Gemini with the 9 Taurus, eyes cut like glasses |
| I spark the spliffs, as the fives pass I mask it |
| And that’s how it is, you can find this where I live |
| The East Maze where the lifts are full of piss |
| And pitch black skies and clouds of red mist |
| I wrote this shit, fury flying through my fist |
| For my hombres that brew like Nigerian Guinness |
| The cold lyricist, I bring Siberian experience |
| Penetrate your premises, back slap a pacifist |
| Enter the Dragon, dragon to smoking cannabis |
| So keep your eyes peeled 'cause cats conceal 9 mm near their pancreas |
| They call it Jankrowville, the land of the vultures |
| Filled with cobras and cold hearted soldiers |
| Cats with pokers, pussyholes and posers |
| I’m seeing dead friend’s faces on posters |
| In Jankrowville where man kill for penny |
| The city’s heavy, I seen many brethrens buried |
| That’s why i keep a 'chete and stay ever ready |
| For all of you jankrows and bonafide fassies in. |
| Jankrowville where man kill for sheckles |
| Hackney central, the place is firing with jackals |
| Brothers who peddle pebbles getting rubbed in their rentals |
| Its heavy mental, many man mask their metal |
| My peeps penitential, trapped in patterns or circles |
| Might catch-22 up in your verbals, I strap herbals |
| Staying vigilant at venues |
| Gets Nagasak- when man attack like Manchus |
| But mans still confused, convicts shotting food |
| Plotting to make a move and get the fuck out the manor |
| Kidnap my son and make her run for the border |
| Its manslaughter, wicked like water torture |
| This one’s dedicated to my peeps living marga |
| Who bun the Nahka to escape the palaver |
| Strap on your armour, other sharks on the corner |
| Capable of killing you in ways you can’t imagine |
| It all happens — What? |
| — It all happens! |
| Get caught napping catch a quick cap and stabbing |
| From a backstabbing that’s why mi nah beg friend |
| Ah them nah like we and we nah like them! |