| My homey Cash, well he gone for five
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| Send my prayers, do your thing, I’ll be going for mine
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| Shit, we live life to the fullest
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| Three hundred and sixty five nights on the strike, that’s a bullet
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| Shit, and uncle Ricky got a month and some change
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| And it feels like the garbage truck just dumping the pain
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| All on my shoulders, I’m warning my soldiers
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| The nights could get chilly, but the morning’s much colder
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| I’ve seen summers get cold
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| And niggaz do it up until the point they done and the fold
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| They can’t succumb to the cold
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| Those of frostbitten, up north sitting, just like some fucking lost kittens
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| They get locked up for carrying boy
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| Doing time underground up in Marion, boy
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| Shit, I respect you
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| You do your time like Gotti, and come home like that Marion boy
|
| You got weed? |
| Smoke it, You got dice? |
| Roll it You got guns? |
| Shoot it, You got a ho? |
| Stroke it You got money? |
| Spend it, You got cars? |
| Whip 'em
|
| You caught a bid? |
| Do it, You got kids? |
| Love 'em, hug 'em
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| I gotta keep striving, I gotta keep moving, I gotta keep grinding
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| If this was the road, and I was a trucker, then shit man, I gotta keep driving
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| Through the lies and deception, had to ride through neglection
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| I’m an insomniac, up all night, pops and moms was an addict, shit
|
| My puffing scums is a habit
|
| I need me a contingency plan, my pops with the syringe in his hand
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| He was leaning and nodding
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| Uncle Ricky your mission is like Afeni was Robin
|
| Shit, you should’ve seen the apartment
|
| All I ever wanted was franks and beans I was starving
|
| Crack fiends on the carpet, shit
|
| But if it wasn’t for grandma
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| I swear I’m in love with my grandma
|
| That’s why I only does it for grandma
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| That’s when I roll in the street
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| I pray she covers me from the crown of my head, to the sole of my feet
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| I figured its means as a minor, huh
|
| Look at the foods ad fibers
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| The dude with the cubes will snipe ya More tools then snider
|
| Exclusive writer
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| The jewels are fire
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| I learned don’t fool with rider from pop
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| I don’t need a gun, just a screwdriver
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| Two tires, two pliers, a wrench and a few wires, shit
|
| I take it all from the buyers
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| Bonfire, all from a lighter, call me «Macgyver»
|
| Need a rehab I’ll call up Shania
|
| Bitch hungry, good, we gonna stall in papaya
|
| Take your recession special, yeah you less then special
|
| Me and Jim Jones, extra special
|
| Check it, Dre to Snoop, Gotti to Ja Dame to Jigga, Puff to Big, D n’Y
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| Doggy you next up, get your respect up Or a vest can’t protect you when I hit you in your chest, duck
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| The big heads done pushed me You gotta be sex: dickheads is pussy, killa
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| I bring the hammers to the gunfight
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| One night stand, only standing for one night
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| Doggy, cause when it come to that cash
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| No homo, I will jump in that ass, jump and I flash
|
| Then jump in that jag, jumpsuit
|
| Jump back from the coroner, I have you jump in that bag
|
| Come with that cash |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Beautiful Noise, artist - The Diplomats. Album song Cam'Ron Presents The Diplomats - Diplomatic Immunity, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп