Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Drabant, artist - Tommy Tee
Date of issue: 11.01.2009
Song language: Norwegian
Drabant(original) |
Je-Jesse Jones, jeg kommer fra Drabantbyen |
Ber dem sette seg på livet mitt er vanskelig |
Velkommen til Oslo shit, det skjer i hovedstaden |
Feite biler og dop til lille Groruddalen |
Den her går ut til alle de som pusher pakker |
Jesse Jones han er kriminell svarting |
Jeg er mitt Ken Ring, jeg er kjenning, jeg er spenning |
Hip-Hop i Oslo den tar en annen vending, helt annen tenning |
Vi er på andre tanker |
Gjør det her for de som henger i Drabantbyen |
Svart hette, svarte hansker |
Ber dem sette seg på livet mitt er vanskelig |
En ting som vi sier er for alltid |
Knull politi, gjør penger og ta sjanser |
Har det de trenger, har det som fenger |
Men vi klakker, det er penga som snakker |
Det er Jesse, du kjenner meg fra traktene |
De er ikke vant med drabanstilen som jeg brakte med |
Hva faen |
Faen, ærre du? |
Jeg trodde det var snut, jeg |
Öppna dörren, det är Ken Ring |
Jag lever livet med husslandet som instinkt |
Så jävla skönt att en till har kommit in |
Hela Oslo, stanna upp, stå still |
Det är farligt, du bränner fingertopparna |
Laddar hela natten, åker hem och käkar ropparna |
Betongblock, runt om där jag bor |
Nu kom dom, fuck alla andra bror |
Mitt i Stovner, jag ligger där och snurrar |
I en splitter ny bil med Jesse Jones och bara flummar |
Pundar undan det innbringar laxingar, backa bort när du ser dessa svartingar |
Stänger av beatet for att röka mitt weed… ni vet hur det går till! |
On the average night, I’m likely to stab a fag with a knife |
That’s when I’m chilling, imagine when I’m mad what it’s like |
Damn right it’s a disasterous sight |
Why you think I’ve been in prison more than half of my life (my life) |
Wolves, bloods and crips, duckin' the digs |
We don’t like basketball, but still fuck with the knicks |
Dimes, twenties, fifties and bricks |
Summer art though, if the bitch need a fix, it’s triple the tips |
Do whatever it takes, the fakes, I can never relate |
Ya’ll can chill as long as my cheddar is straight |
But if I’m broke, shit, I’mma load the beretta with eight |
Show y’all niggas my gun game is better than great |
Little crack baby, ignorant son of a black lady |
Who never bothered to teach you cause the bitch was that shady |
I never leave home without the guns (ah) |
It’s Saigon, and motherfucking Jess Jones |
I’m gone |
(translation) |
Je-Jesse Jones, I'm from Drabantbyen |
Asking them to settle on my life is difficult |
Welcome to Oslo shit, it's happening in the capital |
Fat cars and drugs for little Groruddalen |
This one goes out to all those who push packages |
Jesse Jones he is criminal blacking |
I'm my Ken Ring, I'm acquaintance, I'm excitement |
Hip-Hop in Oslo it takes a different turn, a completely different ignition |
We are on other thoughts |
Do it here for those who hang out in Drabantbyen |
Black hood, black gloves |
Asking them to settle on my life is difficult |
One thing we say is forever |
Fuck the police, make money and take chances |
Have what they need, have what catches |
But we clap, it's money that speaks |
It's Jesse, you know me from the neighborhood |
They are not used to the draban style that I brought with me |
What the hell |
Damn, do you? |
I thought it was snot, me |
Open the door, it's Ken Ring |
I live life with my homeland as an instinct |
So damn nice that one more has come in |
All of Oslo, stop, stand still |
It's dangerous, you burn your fingertips |
Charges all night, goes home and chews the caterpillars |
Concrete blocks, around where I live |
Now they came, fuck every other brother |
In the middle of Stovner, I'm lying there spinning |
In a brand new car with Jesse Jones and just flummoxing |
Pounds away it brings in salmon, back off when you see these blacks |
Turns off the beat to smoke my weed… you know how it goes! |
On the average night, I'm likely to stab a fag with a knife |
That's when I'm chilling, imagine when I'm mad what it's like |
Damn right it's a disasterous sight |
Why do you think I’ve been in prison more than half of my life (my life) |
Wolves, bloods and crips, duckin 'the digs |
We do not like basketball, but still fuck with the knicks |
Dimes, twenties, fifties and bricks |
Summer art though, if the bitch needs a fix, it's triple the tips |
Do whatever it takes, the fakes, I can never relate |
Ya’ll can chill as long as my cheddar is straight |
But if I’m broke, shit, I’mma load the beretta with eight |
Show y’all niggas my gun game is better than great |
Little crack baby, ignorant son of a black lady |
Who never bothered to teach you cause the bitch was that shady |
I never leave home without the guns (ah) |
It’s Saigon, and motherfucking Jess Jones |
I’m gone |