Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Flatline, artist - MC Eiht. Album song Section 8, in the genre ПопDate of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Priority
Song language: English
Flatline |
| Geah |
| Thug shit, check this out |
| Compton, geah |
| I don’t think they heard me on this one |
| I said: Compton, nigga! |
| That’s how we doin it |
| Regulating for all the gangstas |
| West Side, nigga, Hoo-Bangin' Gangstas, you know I’m sayin' |
| Check this out |
| I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline |
| Compton, where we from, nigga? |
| Compton, all day, nigga |
| We gon' start it like this |
| Check this out |
| Way back 4−4's seven years in the pen |
| .38 with wooden handles and a fifth with gin |
| Let me begin, before the days of committin sins |
| I was a lil' knucklehead getting courted in |
| Till I die C.P.T., y’all can’t budge me |
| Kill a nigga for the neighborhood, can’t judge me |
| I’m lettin' the fire spit, y’all fools catchin' some slugs |
| I regulate, servin' you way that straight thug |
| You know if you’re slippin' you get laid up in the mud |
| Take over your spot, pushin' china white and bud |
| The devious, the mind blowin', the over-throwin |
| Christmas everyday in the hood, I keep it snowin |
| It’s hot like that where I’m from |
| You bitches tryin to test, you meet the M-1 |
| From sun up, nigga, to sun down |
| I pull out, your gat go down |
| Bitches, I run town, what up? |
| Geah |
| I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline… |
| Y’all start runnin' and screamin' and pushin' |
| And yellin' and slippin' and duckin' |
| When you see the Tec-9 buckin' |
| Stagger them motherfuckers, make em wish they hid |
| Spittin, call me the ghetto fuckin' Billy the Kid |
| You be layin on your back tryin' to catch yo' breath |
| Life starts to flash, now you’re nearing death |
| What’s left, bitch? |
| You see the Glock starts tickin' |
| Die, as I blast one more you stop kickin' |
| Flee the scene to my next to akin |
| Call back to the house, so they fly in ends |
| Just made a real close trip to the pen |
| And in another town I start the same trend |
| I sets up shot cuz your ass is done |
| Hoo-Bang all day, my uzi weighs a ton |
| Ain’t no fun if you don’t want none |
| Ricochet off your shoulder blade, nigga, you’re numb |
| C’mon, geah |
| My mind got me caught in a twist, I can’t cope |
| I reminisce on the days in the hood slangin' dope |
| Certain territories yo' ass couldn’t float |
| And if you caught slippin', then fool, that’s all she wrote |
| I like the life while dippin' blocks with heats |
| I’m ready in a second to stop yo' heartbeat |
| Fuckin' around in the hood, smokin' with hoes |
| Violators hit the blocks, we hittin' the floors |
| Y’all ain’t caught us slippin', only wasted your ammo |
| We dips back through, dumps with the 4−4 |
| Hollows come out the dark chamber |
| Express my anger, never run from danger |
| Servin mo' yayo, dash from the ranger |
| Die by the hand of the unknown stranger |
| My position is stick, situation is thick |
| I ride with real muthafuckas and hit licks |
| The Compton lunatic, way too sick |
| Conflict you pick, hear the 9 click, c’mon |
| Geah |
| Compton gangsters all day |
| Hoo-Bangin' affiliates |
| You catch the flatline |