Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Narco , by - NARCO. Song from the album Alijos confiscados 1997/ 2008, in the genre Иностранный рокRelease date: 04.02.2008
Record label: Warner Music Spain
Song language: English
Narco |
| Ughh |
| Yo mato por nada |
| Yo tengo muchas pistolas, cabron |
| Yo tengo cocaina, marijuana, y lo que tu necessita |
| Numeros bueno |
| If you having trouble translating |
| What the fuck I just said, go get Rosetta Stone |
| Puta, pendejo |
| Passionate about crack sales |
| People wonder if I have a cracked head |
| See OG and freelow, don’t ever call em no crack head |
| Brap brap, cracked legs, broke ribs, cracked head |
| Me cleavin' to the white meat, cracked eggs |
| Pots, pans, still objects, non-stick, district court |
| Nonsense child support, tryna settle things outta court |
| Luca brasi a mobster, chill get thrown in ya collarbone |
| Broken nose and a collarbone, neck look like a xylophone |
| Sick a being bothered pussy artist you can blast off |
| When I was broke I was a joke, I couldn’t die far |
| Wrong number, call a bitch, I get the dial tone |
| Now my dipping game away from getting smiled |
| Cheeks, cheeks, or should I say no teeth |
| Been on the streets for 14 months and I ain’t miss a beat |
| White girl wasted, a couple want me to cuddle |
| Need them bills to pay her bill, she love my lil' brother Chuckie |
| Booty club transaction in traffic saying they love it |
| OG car moving blocks boxing impuddle |
| Down sag hood, out the hood I suffer concussions |
| Why receive a past protection |
| No fumble, touchdown, or nothin, go |
| Bitch I run the streets, don’t talk to police |
| Say what’s my name perdon mi no habla ingles |
| Bitch I run the streets, mi no talk to police |
| Say what’s my name perdon mi no habla ingles |
| Narco trafficante, narco trafficante |
| Ti quiero cocaina mi familia es mi hombre |
| Narco trafficante, narco trafficante |
| Te quiero cocaina mi familia es mi hombre |
| I know I’m the shit like my shit don’t have a stench |
| And all my hoes are ratchet like I don’t have a wrench |
| And all my hoes are in the game like I don’t have a bench |
| And they gimme so much brain, them hoes don’t make no sense |
| And my white girl in the kitchen work her wrist like Rachel Ray |
| I don’t see no black and white, I see 50 shades of grey, yeah |
| Cocaine and jail, bars story of my life |
| I got 11 in the car, I hope amigo wrapped 'em right |
| I don’t want these nigga’s bitches so I’mma give 'em back to 'em |
| But they mouth game exclusive, I’m startin' to get attatched to 'em |
| Bitches on my dick, I got to ask 'em where my dick is |
| Shout out to my girlfriend, act like you ain’t catch it |
| Benz truck, I’m loving it, I love it so much I fuck in it |
| Am I tripping or is her pussy talkin' |
| I swear it just told me to nut in it |
| Her pussy so tight I’m stuck in it, feel like she still sucking it |
| I beat it until it young bleed like her, nigga what in it |
| Bitch I’m fresh up off my grind like a skateboard in this prime |
| Don’t skateboard why lie, couldn’t skateboard if I tried |
| I like trap houses and kitchens and love to fuck with prescriptions |
| Got a bad bitch and she, you’d prolly guess she a stripper |
| She kinda tall, got a long weave, her thighs thick and she slender |
| She play men but she really sweet, got pretty teeth and she tender |
| My mother’s Puerto Rican with pistols, illegal tender |
| I ain’t pussy like the son of the one on illegal tender |
| Gason Donald bitch you play Willy Cooley I get you injured |
| Went to school, too busy focused on pigeons, we got suspended |
| Boyfriend ugly, girl I’m too cute to be going duffy |
| Keep that hifey shit from around me in public, could lead to scufflin' |
| Free zoah li jamalo while in the Roco republic |
| Still I thrive in the gutter, missing lives in the jungle |
| Pair of cleates dirty feet had to improvise when I’m probably |
| Boobly bumpy on a muscle, can’t go aside from the hustle, no |