Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Rock Steady , by - Tony Touch. Song from the album The Piecemaker Ii, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 23.02.2004
Record label: Koch
Song language: English
Rock Steady |
| Give me all Gucci colors, my niggas get real for brothers |
| We idolize big lines and nines |
| Jumping out of big joints live, projects |
| Lot of objects, front if you want, you gon' die |
| Lex with a sawed off, Killah gonna tax him in the Waldorf |
| All bloodhounds, pop, show it off |
| Actin' like that money ain’t live |
| Built it from the getty-up, New York City gonna fry |
| Aiyo, son, I take mines, rape lines |
| Yeah, I’m realer than Rikers who orchestrate great crimes |
| Jump out the Lex', lookin' zesty, real Nestle |
| What, picture nigga, except bless me |
| God, I’m high-powered, gun of the hour, crafted Flowers |
| Give it the blend, double it, and blow like the Towers |
| All ya’ll need to take showers, can’t take what’s ours, pa. |
| Been sellin' crack, been sellin' crack |
| Been sellin' crack, livin' the black |
| Revealin' how we flip that, strip cats |
| We write rich raps |
| Help out the body |
| Me, similar to the Gotti story |
| I’m kinda young, son, a fly forty |
| The Reverend cold shittin' on shorty, did it to shorty pop |
| And gave him like ten in his jaw piece |
| Remember this sayin': «Staten Island Gun Slayers» |
| It’s mayors, all gauges, minimum wage the raises. |
| …like to Rock. |
| Niggas be killin' me, actin' like they ain’t feelin' me |
| Knowin' they bustin' them guns with my artillery |
| Usin' my words as if it’s his and hers |
| That’s that shit that make me not wanna pass the herb |
| The fake artist, I’m coming Razor Sharp regardless |
| I bump lah, sowed of liquor, light and spark |
| Make it crunk live, the dirty dirty try and serve me |
| Like black folks in scary movies: you die early |
| Tony Toca, Meth Tical, vida loca |
| Esta loca, if she think I eat the chocha |
| Ma, toss the, smoke ya, win free (Winfrey) like Oprah |
| And un-hoast that roast, your meat, for the butcher |
| Licky lost ya, don’t even come a step closer |
| When I approach a track, I slam like my culture |
| Chill with the feedback, black, we don’t need that |
| GZA told you it’s a «Cold World», where ya heat at?.. |
| …like to Rock. |
| Hots on the shit, just so we can lock horns |
| Throw a package in the streets, get the block warm |
| Something happens when we meet, hit the block strong |
| Get it poppin' in your face, taste the popcorn |
| Now that we back on track, can’t lose |
| My back gets huge, bitches Moulin Rouge |
| The way I move, the Cadillac, so smooth |
| Battle rap improve shit, light the fuse |
| Bruised off the booze liquor, doozy kicker |
| The dynamite style, shinin' lights still flicker |
| Wu-Tang stickers is a nuclear reaction |
| Tony Touch scratch the table, RZA on the back end |
| Pure, the talent, yes, yours truly |
| The brand combination of jazz, class and beauty |
| Here to do my duty, up another notch |
| The gospel according to rap is mega watts |
| Agenda never stop, dead center, mega hot |
| Go mop it up, go cop it when it drops. |
| Woman, you sure like to Rock. |
| Haha, come on over here. |