Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Part Three, artist - MC Chris. Album song Friends, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.11.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: mc chris
Song language: English
Part Three |
| My fedora’s full of rain |
| I resemble Sam Spade |
| Even though I try in vain |
| This city can’t be saved |
| Reminiscing of a Roosevelt |
| Policing the police |
| When I’m not keeping the peace |
| I’m misplacing my niece |
| I got glasses, a mustache |
| Stains of coffee and tobacco |
| First pass the cigarettes |
| Call for back up when I hack up |
| My steady stream of coffee |
| Could you keep me cafeinated? |
| The weather’s such a pleasure |
| Always raining and I hate it |
| Special Forces veteran |
| More tools and zone than Zepplin |
| Came back to Chicago |
| Sweet home needed some defended |
| But they say there’s bad behavior |
| Had me gruff by stranger danger |
| Took a dirty lot |
| A dirty cop |
| Should a stopped him |
| Later |
| See Chicago has a history of oafish officials |
| They goldfish |
| And they know this |
| While I get a dismissal |
| Gotham’s looking awesome |
| It can’t possibly be corrupt |
| Then I show up |
| And I grow up |
| Cuz I know that I am fucked |
| What |
| My name is Gordon |
| Can’t afford it |
| Put your hands in the sky |
| I don’t rough 'em |
| I just cuff 'em |
| I ain’t bluffin' |
| No lie |
| Call me McGruff |
| Can’t get enough |
| All this stuff you call crime |
| It’s pretty shitty |
| I’ll admit it |
| But this city’s all mine |
| My name is Gordon |
| Can’t afford it |
| Put your hands in the sky |
| I don’t rough 'em |
| I just cuff 'em |
| I ain’t bluffin' |
| No lie |
| Call me McGruff |
| Can’t get enough |
| All this stuff you call crime |
| It’s pretty shitty |
| I’ll admit it |
| But this city’s all mine |
| Picked on in a parking garage |
| Ambushed by a bunch of thugs |
| Skull and ski-mask baseball bats |
| Followed by a lunch of drugs |
| Threats against my wife and kids |
| Safe at home asleep and snug |
| Broken glasses |
| Broken ribs |
| Don’t mean Jim won’t fuck you up |
| Runnin on the road |
| Don’t liken the cold |
| I’m pissed |
| No doubt about it |
| We drop our guns |
| I throw mine back |
| It’s an unfair fight without it |
| He gets the bearings |
| I crush the larynx |
| Now he ain’t fairing so good |
| I strip and cuff |
| And leave him enough |
| By the side of the road in the woods |
| He keeps depressin' on guessin' |
| Cuz I start messin' with essin |
| I had a wife and a family |
| Now I’m composing confession |
| She’s coming at me with questions |
| A lot of pent up aggressions |
| She starts a quick packing session |
| She leaves no message, I’m stressing |
| Better get better instead |
| Better yet bottle some friends |
| Needs hit the poor |
| Cuz the damn divorce |
| Has oddly throttled my threads |
| At the end of my rope |
| I quiver and cope |
| All alone by the phone in my bed |
| I go for a glimmer of hope |
| Get nothing but ghosts |
| Til a coast in the den |
| My name is Gordon |
| Can’t afford it |
| Put your hands in the sky |
| I don’t rough 'em |
| I just cuff 'em |
| I ain’t bluffin' |
| No lie |
| Call me McGruff |
| Can’t get enough |
| All this stuff you call crime |
| It’s pretty shitty |
| I’ll admit it |
| But this city’s all mine |
| My name is Gordon |
| Can’t afford it |
| Put your hands in the sky |
| I don’t rough 'em |
| I just cuff 'em |
| I ain’t bluffin' |
| No lie |
| Call me McGruff |
| Can’t get enough |
| All this stuff you call crime |
| It’s pretty shitty |
| I’ll admit it |
| But this city’s all mine |
| I’m commended |
| I’m commissioner |
| Throw my prisoners |
| Up in Blackgate |
| I’m assisted |
| By the prisoner |
| Who insists upon visiting mad lace |
| So I’m often working overtime |
| Clenching over casefiles |
| I leave the window open |
| Hoping |
| He arrives |
| And my face smiles |
| Always on my side |
| Can’t be controlled by the mob |
| I know he’s on the case |
| And won’t beat off til it’s solved |
| I have an instinct |
| Bugs are listening |
| Let’s move this thing |
| To the roof |
| I installed a signal |
| For when I need you |
| If you needed the proof |
| The common criminal is evolved |
| Into a costume and codename |
| I gather in groves |
| They’re killing 'em |
| It goes both ways |
| You got access to weaponry |
| But your enemies gonna top it |
| These 'splosions are enormous |
| And the body count’s catastrophic |
| They all know I’m your accomplice |
| Soon to be coming after me |
| They’re gonna hold me hostage |
| Or hurt Barbara |
| Wait and see |
| His name’s Joker |
| He’s an owner of a carnival on the outskirts |
| Stockpile a toxin |
| That’s a foxin |
| Before we have ourselves an outburst |
| My name is Gordon |
| Can’t afford it |
| Put your hands in the sky |
| I don’t rough 'em |
| I just cuff 'em |
| I ain’t bluffin' |
| No lie |
| Call me McGruff |
| Can’t get enough |
| All this stuff you call crime |
| It’s pretty shitty |
| I’ll admit it |
| But this city’s all mine |