Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bang, artist - Shyne. Album song Shyne, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.04.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Bad Boy
Song language: English
Bang |
I done fucked *The Baddest Bitches* ask Trina |
Give her coke to stuff between her, said she loved my demeanor |
Felonies and misdemeanors, I’m villified |
I just, rap on the side, black mafia ties |
Prolific words, I speak for the unheard |
Niggas who love guns, money, girls, and furs |
Sittin up in the mans', runnin shit |
On the phone moving bricks, orderin hits |
Perfected the game, diamond infested the chain |
Niggas think I change I just wanna watch 'em change |
Livin the American dream |
Drugs, violence, sex, and loaded magazines |
That’s all I could talk about in these sixteen |
Cuz that’s all I live, ask Tibs |
It is what is, either graveyards or consecutive life bids, shit |
Niggas wanna bang, we could bang |
Niggas wanna slang, we could slang |
Niggas wanna bang we could bang out |
Til the clip’s done, or your vital arteries hang out |
Hammer cocked, Bad Boy, the black Camelot |
Raise the price and connect the dots |
Through life’s journies, all I need is a couple of mack mils |
A couple of mils and good attorneys |
Skatin on big blades, goin out in a blaze in my last days |
I’ll probably die with a bad drug trade or an overdose |
Without tellin my moms, sorry it was close |
My wife and my bitch fightin over my notes |
All my niggas skied north makin a toast |
Til hell, just gimme bad bitches in Channel |
Connects wit, Chinese cartels and that new SL |
And the judge that’s gon' set my bail |
I’m on top of this shit, look at the wrists |
Too much rocks in this shit, ain’t that a bitch |
Make hits, til my last breath |
With that nigga, the P U double F |
So lay back in the cut motherfucker 'fore you get shot |
I kill niggas on the spot like a cop |
I did it all four seasons suites to a cot |
Give bitches nothing but breathmints and this cock |
Call me what, there’s a way to eat |
And all we got is sports, entertainment or the streets |
I’m in deep, think of Citibank when I sleep |
Ching, ching like I was from Shaolin |
Brooklyn nigga what you say, keep stylin |
My air force ones you couldn’t walk a mile in |
I love politics, narcotics, and violins |
Bad Boy forever, we move in silence |