Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 5 Seconds, artist - Roscoe. Album song Young Roscoe Philaphornia, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Priority
Song language: English
5 Seconds |
You niggaz just don’t get it, do you? |
Young Roscoe, the sodo |
YA, Dogg Poung, Kurupt, Young Gotti |
Yeah, started November 23rd, 1972 an' 83 |
Put me on lockdown an' sneak out back |
An' when the cameras ain’t rollin', I sneak a sack |
Let’s make one thing clear, this ain’t no democracy |
Not while you listenin' to my CD |
You see right now, ain’t no other rappers hot but me |
Oh, yeah, Pac an' B.I.G., R.I.P. |
But if you ain’t feelin' the same way, press 'Eject' |
I’ll even give you 5 seconds |
Yeah, Tabasco, yeah |
The wait is finally done with, the time is now |
YA, like who want it, we in it to run it |
The album’s done, nigga, Volume 1, nigga |
Tabasco sauce all over the track |
That nigga, Roscoe’ll boss all over the track |
He make the 'Girls All Pause', yeah, they open to that |
Now who you know the flow talkin' about approachin' a mac? |
Without a stack of doe with some dodo to roll fat |
I’m a top notch nigga, hand an' cotch trippa |
Cut your arm off to get to the watch quicka |
Not tryin' to do it all, can’t see Juvy Hall |
Too many booty calls, my nigga, duty calls |
I’m used to ditchin' classes, roamin' through the halls |
I roam with the Young Assasins, that’s where I belong |
Put me on lockdown an' sneak out back |
An' when the cameras ain’t rollin', I sneak a sack |
Let’s make one thing clear, this ain’t no democracy |
Not while you listenin' to my CD |
You see right now, ain’t no other rappers hot but me |
Oh, yeah, Pac an' B.I.G., R.I.P. |
But if you ain’t feelin' the same way, press 'Eject' |
I’ll even give you 5 seconds |
These young niggaroes comin' with sicka flows |
Hit you with the Figure 4, Rock Bottom |
Me an' my dogs gettin' paper’d up |
Rippin' 'em up after sherds an' YA it up from top to bottom |
Rocks? Yeah, we got that but we don’t wear 'em |
What about glocks? Yeah, we got those but we don’t carry |
Well, what about plots? |
Fo' sho' we got those but we don’t ever share 'em |
We bury 'em in the back of our mind until it’s time to smash |
Only in it temporary for cash |
An' stearin' clear from the phonies 'coz they scary to blast |
But where were the mass murderin', Young Assassins murderin' tracks |
To linguish an' we all know how to act |
It’s YA 'til we die, do or die, homicide |
When we rob, when we ride, nigga, side |
We oblide by the rules, ride by the fools |
Throwin' up my squad, holdin' up high for the crew |
You know how we do |
Yeah, it’s plain, simple, I got a plan |
Go, get this money an' shake |
I’m breakin' 'em off like the umbilical cord |
Takin' 'em off the billboard, chargin' through at full force |
An' first to walk in, torch 'em hot to death |
Ready to scorch 'em, I’ll leave 'em all stiff like starch |
I noticed a lotta y’all pups like to bark |
But don’t never hit the fence at night when it gets dark |
You better hope the Pitbulls never get loose |
'Coz best believe, we comin' to get you Shitzus |
I’m scopin' so many sheep in wolves clothin', it’s pitiful |
Analyze the situation, hypocritical |
Cynical criminals, indespicable individuals |
Supplyin' the heat, rocks bumpin' through yo' digital |
Whenever you dippin' through the ghetto |
Whippin' the '62 Chevy, blowin' heavy, goin' 70 |
With one hand on the steerin' wheel |
Tryin' to hold it steady, hittin' the switch |
'Coz only Dogg Pound Gangstas could spit it like this |
An' that’s on the intro, so big, so big |