Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Wolves Come Out, artist - San Quinn. Album song Explosive Mode 2 : Back 2 Business, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.04.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Gt, San Quinn
Song language: English
The Wolves Come Out |
Awww yeah, yeah, yo |
Young Mess struck the Mac and his lights went out |
Then I knocked all the ice out his mouth |
Check it out, one to the face, two to the neck |
Hit the liquor sto', then went back to the 'jects |
The fiends get credit, them hoes post up |
The police patrol, feds take close ups |
The block stay hot, it’s work outside |
Don’t ride through stuntin, cause you niggas might die |
When the sun go down, them wolves come out |
Say the wrong shit I put the heater in yo' mouth |
Them boys sit on Tuesday, the money come fast |
I’m on the block with like, 50−11 rocks in my ass, be cool |
When the sun goes down, the wolves come out |
The guns been outside, and we don’t have droughts |
The fiends get credit, them hoes post up |
The police patrol, feds take close ups |
When the sun goes down, the wolves come out |
The guns been outside, and we don’t have droughts |
The fiends get credit, the hoes post up |
The police patrol, feds take close ups |
Night time is the right time to use that K |
Two-two-threes ain’t cool they abuse yo' face |
I’m a stand up guy, I don’t sit down |
Killers don’t talk, they break up crowds |
Eleven to six, have yo' pumpkin covered |
Your family won’t love it when you turn up smothered |
I give day away, on lay away |
My shit so pure they can’t stay away |
Plates with the groove it be tearin your nose up |
Blades so sharp they be tearin they toes up |
Put ten on yo' helmet, Niner or Raider |
Bronco or Charger, we will deflate ya |
Yeah, man fuck that Remi, bitch I’m on Gin |
The O.G.'s say I’m on my way to the pen' |
I don’t give a fuck, its rocks in my low |
The stones in my mouth keep my Metro froze |
Fillmoe nigga, the belly of the beast |
They love me out in Oakland from the Bottoms to the East |
Some claim they thuggin, but they stay out clubbin |
We outside waitin, got security duckin |
Bullets fly past ya, hittin bystanders |
Bout that gossip, you can die over slander |
Jumpin out the Phantom, doors suicide |
Gangsta’s inside, and we don’t coincide |