Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Purple Jag, artist - Raekwon. Album song The Vatican Mixtape, Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.02.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: YLimit
Song language: English
Purple Jag |
Aiyo, I don’t give a fuck what level you on |
When the metal is drawn, either your life or your bezel is gone |
I don’t really wanna hurt ya’ll fags but I’m sitting on paper |
I got Universal mad, Raekwon in a purple Jag |
P.B. |
in a cantaloupe Hummer with commercial tags |
Ya’ll ask the chicks who wrap the bricks |
I’m out to give Harlem, a quick flashback of Rich |
I’m blow like C4, burn up be more |
Layin' that Cheetah, next day in a G4 |
Think like a veteran, choppin' and measurin' |
Always got a way, but God got eleven in |
Little kids follow me, women, they acknowledge me |
New year, new rules, and a new policy |
Posta good, Posta hood, Posta real, Posta do what Posta could |
P.B. |
stay blowin' a stink |
When the girls give me a hug, they all smell the dro on the mink |
Go line for line, dart for dart, heart to heart |
We layin' on top of charts |
See me buggin on Melrose, low top shell toes |
Suede addition, U.S. don’t sell those |
Posta hot, Posta not, did Posta flop? |
Please get off of, of Posta cock |
OK? |
Ya’ll little chumps roll out the red carpet |
For the Postaboy, man, I got Uncle Rae with me |
Raekwon the Chef, is in the building |
Might wanna holla! |
Catch me at a Balley convention, sweater look, worth the money |
Auctionin' and buy me a building |
Matter fact niggas, might try to bubble in it |
You know, the X.T. |
Click, niggas fell in love with it |
Jumpin' out of Akademic jumpers, Nike pumps, jewelry down |
G’in' like Trump, sweetie, you drunk |
Position my thoughts, heavy loss |
Root for the Maybach, one for your girl, you write it off |
With the new color, only six made, we in the world, like |
Whatever we rockin', that’s on the trade |
Whata’s the verdict? |
It’s murder, we preserve, niggas |
Automatic birds, hang gun hammers, grenades, got words on you |
Swerve on you, browsin', all through your housing |
Jakes stop me, try to take forty thousand |
Playin' it kid, you won’t make a thousand |
Yeah, the Larry Davis version, force to build Shaolin |
But now my time, has come |
And time, time, is not on you side |