Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song How It Goes, artist - La the Darkman. Date of issue: 20.08.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
How It Goes |
| Yeah, yeah, La the Darkman |
| 8th Wonder, top of the world, nigga |
| Yeah, sing sing, peach playin ass niggas |
| Killas, yeah |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh Uh huh, yeah |
| In these wild ghetto streets, this is how it goes |
| Smoke La, pack guns, plot up in my foes |
| And Range Rovs, rockin jewels, artica folds |
| 2000, it’s still throw holes in clothes |
| You niggas lame, real game, recognize game |
| Some get hed, my dick long, I get brain |
| When I was broke, smoke weed on the train |
| Now puff in the GS4, dead float like a plane |
| Platinum watch and platinum chain |
| Four pound plastic glock, how dogs get trained |
| Jackets get stained, shirts get stained, jewels get stained |
| By a murderer, squeazin the flame, screamin for fame |
| Tombstones engrave ya name at ya funeral in rain |
| Old folks say cracks the blame, while they act insane |
| And pack the game, cock and aim, blow out ya brain |
| Jump in the Range, back to the grain, it’s Wu-Tang |
| Ain’t shit change, but gettin rich, bitch to bitch |
| Whips to switch, new outfits for new out hits |
| I’m raw like no condom, fuckin a whore |
| On some real shit, takin ya faggots to war |
| Back in S.O.'s, how we smack on dress holds |
| At The Tunnel, givin buck 50 in bundles |
| It’s 2000, no more wowzin, no more browsin |
| My killas blood thirsty outta project housing |
| The body kid, shotty kids, red dotted kids |
| My crew from BK, wild out like Gotti Kid |
| Fuck Guliani bids, and consequences |
| I’m hoppin fences, jumped them bences |
| D.T.'s missin in these trenches |
| I wear all black, black gats |
| Only thing white on me, dunn, is my teeth and my crack |
| My money’s green, my weed’s real green, my Lex is green |
| I won’t wait, on a mic or a triple beam |
| My heart like Spike Lee tell me «Do The Right Thing» |
| Nowaday that mean pullin the thing to take cream |
| Pussy, I’m real, from Bronxville to Brownsville |
| Queens, to Manhattan, L.I. |
| back to Staten |
| I murder you… |
| For the new millenium, I wanna be pushin a new Millenium |
| With bricks in the stash, for safety, about ten of them |
| My bitches mad femenime, suckin dick like Kim and 'em |
| Take 'em to the condo, constantly bended them |
| I’m rusty, for faggot niggas that wanna bust me Trust me, I only run with wolves, you can’t touch me Plus me, knowledge I got, just can’t explain |
| Street value, worth 50 pounds of cocaine |
| I reign like a bullet comin from John Wayne |
| Black male, society failed to obtain |
| I got big balls, big brains, big trucks, big chains |
| My wounds paint a picture, the cassette’s the frame |
| I’m iller than one nigga tryin to rob a whole train |
| Look at America thru the eyes of Saddam Hussein |
| If a slut wanna fuck, me and my niggas, weren’t trainin |
| It’s 2000, but in the hood, shit’s the same, nigga |
| Trapacanti, the streets for real |
| Trapacanti, Trapacanti |
| La Trapacanti |