Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Diesel, artist - The Alchemist. Date of issue: 27.02.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Diesel |
| You know, I’ve clipped a lot of guys in my life |
| Close friends, guys I didn’t know |
| I didn’t always agree that the guy should be clipped |
| But I never questioned the orders and I never went off half-cocked |
| I gotta get back in the streets |
| That’s where all the money is these days |
| From a kid alone, I turned into this grown image |
| From the Popeye cartoons to that grown spinach |
| A young man prone to business, he his own chemist |
| Three quarter mink stone pendants, a stone menace |
| Sleeping with redbone twins, TEC with a chrome finish |
| Parked in a Benz dark-tinted, he gettin' domed in it |
| Massive rocks turn city blocks to Stonehenges |
| Stoned dependence, they visiting methadone clinics |
| Every breadwinner every kid in my zone mimic |
| Keys to the city, chase every dollar that roam in it |
| Life too short, numbers up, God don’t loan minutes |
| Some will see R.I.P soon as this poem ended |
| Ay, you shut up! |
| (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| You just listen (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| I gotta get back in the streets |
| That’s where all the money is these days (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| Thoroughbred DNA in my jugular, I’m a born hustler |
| You was born to be in my service, you’s a born butler |
| I’m from the trenches where paper touchers are long tuckers |
| I’m Big Red hangin' niggas from the eleventh floor |
| Settle scores, your pussy selling whore is Eleanor |
| Jimmy «Clean Hands», what you claiming a felon for? |
| They gon' find you in yellow drawers when the metal draw |
| Decomposed like Skeletor with his melon tore |
| I’m from that place where it’s shady faces and lady rapers |
| Empty fridgerators, cribs with cold radiators |
| Low wages and front page of the paper makers |
| Got that behavior like every one of your neighbors hate ya |
| Drug dealers be the role models, they money stars |
| Inside the bar, throw a hundred yards in your honey bra |
| It’s how the beef shit pop off when the gunnin' start |
| Life trials be the lifestyle in these slummy parts |
| I guess you mad I’m a rich fuckin' man (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| You got some fuckin' nerve (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| Let him talk, don’t interrupt (I'm moving diesel on 'em) |
| What the fuck you come cryin' to me about? |