Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Love How It Feels , by - The Jacka. Song from the album The Jacka, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 31.12.2001
Record label: The Artist
Song language: English
Love How It Feels |
| Let’s go |
| I come through bitch |
| With my muthafuckin' niggs |
| And I couldn’t give a fuck |
| By how you hoes feel |
| Dip through with the steel |
| All in a bitch’s face |
| Put my sticker on her ass |
| Tell her let a nigga pass |
| At the summer jam |
| With my backstage pass |
| Bought 'em from the base |
| So we thuggin' on the grass |
| Watchin' time pass |
| Cuz I’m waitin' on the real shit |
| Performin' at the after party |
| Sold when you see a mix |
| Scream real loud bitch |
| Like your real proud |
| A G got tossed in the crowd |
| Then I got lost in the cloud |
| In the Benz |
| With my nigga Twin |
| Honkin' at her and her friends |
| Watchin' her, watch the rims |
| I bet they wanna hop in |
| Even though they on dubs |
| Too love what a thug do |
| I know you got your bread right |
| Let’s see if your head right |
| In the traffic in the middle of the night |
| Do you love what you feel |
| In love with you |
| Real gangsta |
| Yo, uh, yo |
| Real gangstas everywhere |
| Smokin' rope in the alley |
| Just don’t care |
| Swangin' eights in the alley |
| The Hus long here |
| All the hoes on my dick |
| I got to be there |
| But I’d rather hang out |
| And hustle all year |
| Cuz the paper don’t stop |
| The block is on pop |
| It’s the dope game, cocaine |
| Locced out to the brain |
| Give shit 'bout a bitch |
| Silly with the chop man |
| I’d rather hang |
| Wit my niggas on the drug spot |
| Don’t talk on a snitch when his gun pop |
| 1 double O duece 3 |
| Niggas gettin' packed in a row 'fo deep |
| Movin' on Fourth Street |
| Yeah ho, check out my shit |
| I couldn’t give a shit about |
| A shitty haired bitch |
| Tossed up, purssed slut |
| Tryin' to get rich |
| Slide my shit down a and burned |
| Gone on a bitch |
| Gettin' dope-fiend dumb |
| Nigga gone off this shit |
| And I don’t pop pills |
| I pop niggas with the clip |
| You faggot ass nigga |
| What are you smokin'? |
| I know to dip hard |
| To the knock I’m yokin' |
| Like what |
| All my murder dub niggs in Oakland |
| And my Hunter’s Point hustlas |
| Keep the chapper smokin' |
| Gave a kid up out my low-life, gangsta, hustlas |
| All you child ass turkey |
| I don’t fuck wit suckas |
| Havin' fun like it’s '81 |
| The hoes love the way |
| My perm hang in the sun |
| I’m outtie 5 G |
| What up bitch, yeah that’s me |
| You a model from L. A |
| But you couldn’t believe |
| All the shit that you seen |
| When you came to my house |
| Thought it was a hard cock |
| Till you seen it float out |
| Rob sittin' on the leather couch |
| Lookin' like Bob |
| Smokin' more than a ounce |
| Close the door |
| Took a trip upstairs |
| Got sucked on the floor |
| Then I called her a whore |
| And I spend way more |
| Than your pops can afford |
| So get the fuck out for real |
| You punk bitch |
| And I ain’t nothin' like |
| Any of the niggas you fuck wit |
| Just ask Boo James |
| That’s my DJ, he’ll tell ya |
| Ain’t nothin' worse than a failure |
| So get your shit together |
| Punk niggas tryin' to send 'em |
| And see what’s in 'em |
| And every love that I drop |
| On a chick is venom |
| I got bitches that suck way more |
| Than them bitches that suck the floor on your tank |
| That’s so real |
| I better paint a picture in your brain |
| You must be lame if you can’t |