Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gangsta, artist - The Diplomats. Album song Cam'Ron Presents The Diplomats - Diplomatic Immunity, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.03.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Gangsta |
Oh, come on, fuck with your boy |
It’s Santana, Heatmakers, where we at? |
Let me see you through this |
Killa, Jones, Freakay |
Yeah man, I’m back at it Today’s a new day, got the boo-lay up in the suitcase |
Go uptown to Harlem, tell 'em that I sent ya Tell 'em it’s August, I’m «Gon'Til'November» |
I need a couple birds, get a broad, have 'em sent up Call my bird, get my broad have her sent up (Please) |
Call my niggaz, call my squad, have 'em sent up (Please) |
I see a town I’m likin' |
See some niggas getting money in a town I like it I run up on them with the pound and light it Like it’s my block now, all right kid? |
He understood me quite clear |
Then that thing banged out, ranged out the side of his right ear |
And I got back to my business, back to my bitches |
Back to the kitchen, that pyrex vision |
Pop, I let that white stuff sit in Get hard, get rock, get to the block and pitchin' |
Yeah I’m sorry but this is how I’m livin |
And this is how I’m getting, fuck how I get it Hey! |
I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
Listening to gangsta music |
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
Watching how the gangstas do it |
I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
Watching Shaft, clocking math |
Now I see death around the corner |
Gotta stay high, will I survive in the city where the skinny niggas die? |
Nope, it’s the city where the skinny niggas ride |
.45 semi on the side, twisting when they drive, yeah |
Lick a shot for Big Pop and 'Pac, yeah |
One more for Shyne locked inside, yeah |
Two more for Cam, for taking over the Roc |
Yeah, yeah, it’s my year |
So, okay, okay, okay, y’all can’t fuck with me, no way |
Jose or Hector Camacho |
Tech blows and watch yo’chest close and tacos |
Motherfucker I’m the best, I told y’all before |
I should y’all before, ey! |
I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
Listening to gangsta music |
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
Watching how the gangstas do it |
I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
Watching Shaft, clocking math |
I’m on the westside of Chicago, lookin’for a bust down |
And make me put my two arms up, Touchdown! |
You stay in touch now, but when I tough down |
I’m like Buckshot shorty, you better «Duck Down» |
Yeah I must clown, I’m from Harlem, Uptown |
Where we flash money, take your bitch and ask you, what now? |
Birds flip a dozen, chicks is dicks they suckin' |
Swallow my kids, go and kiss they cousin |
Yes, they kissing cousins, toys kissing muppets |
Worst then that, they go home and kiss they husband |
That shit’s disgusting |
Keep the chickens clucking, keep the pigeons buggin' |
This on my wrist is nothing |
To me it’s just yellow hearts and pink diamonds |
Where I get the money for this? |
Don’t think rhymin' |
You fucking with Pablo, Bravo, Mario Via Bolo ho, Ta-to |
I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles |
Listening to gangsta music |
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin’the channels |
Watching how the gangstas do it |
I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles |
Watching Shaft, clocking math |