Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song So Many Diamonds, artist - Paul Wall. Album song The People's Champ, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 18.07.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Atlantic
Song language: English
So Many Diamonds |
Aight nigga, you already know what it is man |
A-Town, H-Town connection nigga |
T.I.P. |
man, you understand that? |
My homeboy Paul Wall, extended Pimp Squad Clique |
Keep it pimpin mayne! |
So many diamonds in my teeth you can’t see no gold |
Hundred ki’s in the streets, every week no O |
Certified G, a young nigga so cold |
It’s the Pimp Squad Clique, punk bitch, we so tho’ed |
Pimp smoke grey Cadillac, 24, imagine that |
Camera in my license plate to see you when I’m backin back |
T.I.P. |
be smokin on that good shit imagine that |
I’m blowin on a ho that’s strong enough to kill a cataract |
By bitch I mean fro, hell to heart and had a mack attack |
Give me a brick of blow you never seen it flip as fast as that |
And you can keep the beef, pussy nigga I don’t battle rap |
So that bullshit you kickin through yo' teeth a gangsta laughin at |
That shit you hear on «Gangsta Grillz» is real, best chill |
Before you wake up with some gangsters in your grill and get killed |
By a nigga named Big Phil, tote a big steel |
Give a damn if my record never sells, I’m the shit still |
I got the diamond ice in the grill, invisible top, glass bottom |
I’m swervin lanes on the interstate, evadin laws and playin possum |
I spin the wheel I roll the dice, I look at life in a different light |
36 of that white make you a celebrity overnight |
I shoot a kite to my potnah Project, locked up doin 45 |
And let him know I’m still holdin, them Grit Boys is on the rise |
A hundred percent no compromise, my momma raised to be a man |
I’m not concerned with the next man, gettin money, that’s my plan |
I’m on the road with that boy Unique, I’m po’n drank he roll the Sweets |
T Ferris concocted a master plan, we executed it to the T |
It’s Paul Wall and T.I.P., makin haters, R.I.P |
We so tho’ed you can’t compete, our competition is obsolete |
I’m on the hustle 25/8, ATL to the lone star state |
On the move I’m bleedin blocks, tryin to get this paper straight |
No time to wait no room for error, the gameplan is crystal clear |
I’m tryin to bolt up 83's and throw some ice cubes in the air |
I’m reminiscin, on my potnah Duke that died and passed away |
I’m strapped up at all times, if you flex I’mma blast away |
Like Tom Hanks on «Castaway,» I’m posted up just one deep |
Cause these days these hoes out here be plottin to come up on the creep |
And these suckers be on that reach, tryin to come up off of me |
You need to go get it, by yourself and stand up on your own two feet |
Look at me I’m star-studded, all because I punch that clock |
Burnin straights out on the block, givin it all I got |