Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Godfather, artist - Shyne. Album song godfather buried alive, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Godfather |
Uh huh, Uh huh, Brooklyn Vietnam |
What you, Uh yeah, Uh, Come on |
Oh no, big Shyne Po |
Back up in the motherfuckin heezy for sheezy |
Gimme a tech that don’t jam (bang bang) |
I’m tryin to jucks some more grams and work this whole thing |
My minds poisoned, corrupted and diseased |
360 ki’s |
Money make the world spin |
I make your chest smoke |
Have your mother singing hymms |
Particles of your brains up on your tims |
Kiss you before I twist you |
170 miles |
Headed for disaster faster |
I put it down right |
Bustin off these rounds like |
Real niggas is kings |
You ain’t rockin' that crown right |
Harder more PK watches |
Topless, bitches in cars |
Only meals could heal my scars |
Niggas wanna rhyme like shine like me |
They supposed to |
Niggas wanna bust their guns like me |
They supposed to |
Niggas wanna grind like crime like me |
They supposed to |
Niggas wanna mash like me, dash like me |
Allegations got me pacin' |
Grand jury wouldn’t understand my fury |
For fast cars and jewelry |
I could give a fuck if there’s a heaven for a G |
This is heaven for me |
Go to trial never plea |
Do a bullet and come home to the throne |
I don’t rhyme, I just talk about this life that’s mine |
I’ve seen niggas die, in front of my eyes |
Doin' my filth |
Niggas is expiring like milk |
Different strokes for different folks |
Just give me, different coke in different boats |
Black Aristotle Onassis |
All I see is crack addicts and automatics |
You rap niggas is faggots |
Y’all cannot be serious |
I’m in coupes with gucci interiors |
Airin' out your areas |
Tech nines, two in the flex and shit |
Lookin' at myself like |
Yo, I’m the best in this |
Sometimes I really wonder |
What’s it all about? |
How many bitches can I fuck until I get out |
How many ki’s can I cut, guns can I bust |
Wigs can I push, spots can I juck |
Every single one, cuz I’m a fuckin' savage |
Til I’m cremated, most hated, self made |
Blood type G |
All these young hustlers wanna bubble like me |
They supposed to |
Sippin on syrup, until I perish |
Pickin' bitches off the run-way |
Look forward to, gun-play |
Go to sleep with one eye shut |
Wake up and do the same shit |
I ain’t never gonna change bitch |
And that’s the cycle |
I don’t wanna be like Michael |
More like Darrell Porter |
Gettin' shipments at the border |
Yeah, it’s a wrappity wrap |