| Body ya whole family
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| Like Chris Benoit
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| Leave ya pen scarred
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| Spit rim bars, ghetto memoirs
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| Bag ya bitch right in front of you
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| Revoke ya pimp card
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| You with the centaurs
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| Send her with her ribs gone
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| And a Fuck Ya Lyfe tee
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| That’s the shit we been on
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| Nigga, my gun been drawn
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| And these cowards can’t fuck with me
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| Nemstar with the Gemzstar, buck-fifty
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| Fuck a stylist
|
| You keep on icing
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| I’ll slice ya eyelids
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| Ice picks in ya iris
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| It’s Coney Island
|
| We up in Cypress
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| On the roof, laying like snipers
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| Professional shit, night vision goggles with wipers
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| One shot outta the barrel fuck up your ciphers
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| Shout out to the Lyfers
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| Scumbags and knifers
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| Live from Rikers
|
| Motherfucker get cut quickly
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| Nemstar with the Gemzstar, buck sixty
|
| Armed heavily
|
| Guardians guardin' the God’s legacy
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| My squad stomp you out with more legs than a centipede
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| Desert Eags, bombed at the bar off of kerosene
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| Kill yaself, you in the closet like David Carradine
|
| Beretta scream
|
| Couldn’t step to me with the Devil’s team
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| Energy like it’s ten of me
|
| Crash ya embassy
|
| Kick ya front door wide open
|
| Like, «Yo, remember me?»
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| Gemzstar with the Nemstar, buck seventy
|
| I’m a hundred percent gutter
|
| A hundred percent tougher
|
| And any one these suckas
|
| I tell 'em, «Go fuck ya mother»
|
| I fell in love with the hustle
|
| You fell in love with a Gunther
|
| Now I got that broad feeding me grapes
|
| That bitch a butler
|
| She got you eating out of her ass
|
| 'Cause you a buster
|
| She showed me where you keep ya stash
|
| You shouldn’t trust her
|
| She thought I loved her
|
| But I dubbed her
|
| Now she hate me
|
| Nemstar with the Gemzstar buck eighty
|
| Man, I put that bitch head in a box like Kevin Spacey
|
| I knock you out in front of the cops
|
| And tell 'em, «Chase me»
|
| Ya mom’s is a big bull dyke
|
| They call her Tasty
|
| She used to boost Lo gear for me from outta Macy’s
|
| That’s my crimey
|
| The warrant squad couldn’t find me
|
| They mased the whole team on the block
|
| They coulda blind me
|
| Grimy
|
| Wake you out ya sleep with one ninety
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| Gemzstar with the Nemstar, buck ninety
|
| Come try me
|
| Punk, the pump right by me
|
| You pump-fakin and fist-pumpin'
|
| Ya suit’s shiny
|
| I’m too slimy
|
| Slide the tentacle in ya wifey
|
| Might be the nicest ever without a pardon
|
| You a target
|
| I’m Sergeant Slaughter to you
|
| Ya little twat, I got callouses harder than you
|
| I’m a storm shadow
|
| You a born rat who needs his jaw shattered
|
| I abhor rappers
|
| I’m the law, lord and master
|
| I’m in the F-150 Raptor
|
| All i do is grind and ride
|
| Merch game homicide
|
| Shittin on your nine to five
|
| Ask me how I’m doin'
|
| I say, «I'm alive»
|
| But I still keep the grip by my side
|
| Just in case the drama rise
|
| Take the stand, I’ma lie
|
| Lookin' in your honors eyes
|
| Jab leave you stunned
|
| Right hook’ll leave you traumatized
|
| Me and Gemz kill niggas line-for-line
|
| With a scholars mind
|
| Flow hotter than the sun shine in Ghana skies
|
| Dollar signs
|
| Lotta crime
|
| Posted by the mama’s fried
|
| Shotties slide out the trenchcoat
|
| Like its Colombine
|
| Gotta grind
|
| When the feds givin' out that Gotti time
|
| Probably find
|
| Bodies lined up
|
| In ya lobby slime
|
| Dust, booze
|
| Mushrooms
|
| Smack ya out ya molly mind
|
| Police comin' around like, «Who done it?»
|
| Back-to-back
|
| Gat-for-gat
|
| Who want it?
|
| Nemstar with the Gemzstar
|
| Two hunnit, nigga
|
| Nigga
|
| Come here, nigga
|
| Ahh, nigga, just cut me!
|
| Hold that, motherfucker
|
| Somebody call the police! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 200 , by - Nems. Song from the album Gorilla Monsoon, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп