| Comin' to get this money, money
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| Knock, Knock nigga
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| Aiyo, aiyo
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| I be where the dough at and where the dough at, a ho at
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| I grind for real, y’all niggas know that
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| Cause slow money’s better than no money
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| I keep a hustle, strong-arm block muscle
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| Hand me those things, what’s poppin' my nigga?
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| Po-po watching again
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| Put the heat and the work in the stash, Fatty got us
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| I wish somebody would try to rob us
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| Them bootleg CDs, two for five dollars
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| Advances, leather
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| I’m gettin' my dick sucked by belly-dancers
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| All hood, yeah, pop got the gambling spot back
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| Roll up a wood, smoke berries, my team 'bout paper
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| At first you don’t succeed, strive again
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| That Gin and Grapefruit, rockable blend it’s grown B. I
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| Brownsville, all the way to Portland, you know us
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| The ice don’t melt but it felt like you know us
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| Yeah, you go under the ground
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| If you didn’t know me then Pa, you knowing me now
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| I been poppin' those and them ho’s been knocking those
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| Shows outta state, West bubble fuck
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| With big hummer trucks, gangsta life, live big
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| That’s my word to Big, I send shots to your ribs
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| See if you can spot the red beam
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| I’m parked right in front of the spot inside a red Beam', nigga
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| (Yeah, yeah, we’ll pass this off)
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| Yeah we got this pick up
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| After we pick this up everything gon' be good
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| (Watch yaself)
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| Yo watch those two cats over there
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| They funny facin' right now, they funny facin'
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| (I got that)
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| I started out workin' a ho, moved up to a runner
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| Hustled for material wealth, put bullet-proof tires on the Hummer
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| Straight to ya gate I deliver, flow like the Kwantung River
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| Murdered for a few tails of silver
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| Code: Red, swingin' on ya head, it’s all actual, the murder capital
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| Group emcee killers, masters, pros and villains
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| Mic snatchers, dark like a hatchet
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| Flash ya ratchet, whether steel or plastic
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| Check the regiment
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| Peace to Almighty Infinite from the Desert
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| What’s the science Wu-alliance?
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| On the Ave, I heard son got stabbed up at the party
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| Never, the God too clever
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| He seen it comin', they thought he was slippin'
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| 'cuz he’s rockin' a drunken', hand on his gun and
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| Eyes red ready to dead whatever movin'
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| Against the Armoured Truck, people that he moved wit'
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| Just make sure my money’s right, how I move
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| (Yo the money’s right)
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| The money there look easy, smooth and deadly
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| At the Plaza, high with her friends
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| She from Brazil and she likes men with Indian skin
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| How, the fuck are rap niggas goin' to trial?
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| Was that easy like burnin' an Owl or turnin' a dial
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| The body you do’s, we body you dudes
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| We robbin' you, dealin' death and you outta ya shoes
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| Who’s on first, now who’s on second?
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| I’m on third, I’m not playin', them Ninas got 'em all prayin'
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| God please save me, them Brooklyn niggas, they all crazy
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| Both eyes hazy, now who the fuck want it?
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| We gamblin' grands, me and my mans
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| We got the block on watch for them D’s in them vans
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| Now that’s my word, that’s my word
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| Twenty a gram, fuck that, thirty a bird
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| Flip somethin', respect the juks
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| This here’s supposed to happen
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| Now who the fuck wanna start rappin'? |
| Then start rappin'
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| Let’s get this money
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| Divide it by the group
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| Divide by life niggas
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| On the grind, block for block
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| Whatever, whatever
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| Fort Knox, Knock, Knock, nigga
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| Timbo King, my nigga Dev One on the track
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| Definite on the Internet
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| Definitely, yeah, yeah
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| Bring it back. |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Armoured Truck, artist - Masta Killa. Album song Masta Killa Presents: The Next Chamber, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп