Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Latunza Hit, artist - Wu-Syndicate. Album song Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.03.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wu-Tang
Song language: English
Latunza Hit |
Let’s get this money for real. |
It’s time to get paid baby. |
Lutunza. |
All that shit. |
For real. |
It’s planned gains. |
Just don’t want no money. |
For real. |
Shit is real in the feel out here. |
Yeah. |
When iron spit, cats fold, infact get their life froze |
Model hit, stallion, medallion, Fedel Castro |
Cigars lit, coke sniffs got face slashed and? |
raw-dick? |
Heist 20th century glock, murder with own clip |
Eighty-t along things, storm rip |
Spots, where the bricks, eight-box, jewellery? |
Empire fall quick, project legacy involved with |
Incarcerated thugs came home, so we linked, form a swarm click |
Operate extortion on some calm shit, faggot catch snitched |
Yo, tell him what happened, haven’t been found since |
Two rounds from? |
autopsy?, bound? |
drip? |
Barely decomposed corpse, laced ?, out of town ditch |
Cheddar got me hungry, open eye’s lids |
Two lies, cry, innocent die, attention is undivided |
Lives got you cryin when homicide hit |
Look them niggaz shinin, news report, no one can find him |
Ain’t no surprise, where the funds at? |
Lutunza hit |
Panic or flich, get clapped, can’t stand in your pants |
Thought he used his head, but he snitched |
Fat look, snatch up, duck tape him and his man and his bitch |
Eight hundred thousand dollars, damn it, we’re rich |
Found dead, stallion horse head in your whip |
Tote, heist 20th century glock, guns and clips |
Run your shit, funds and bricks, lutunza hit |
So, what’s the chemistry, who ran in your spot, plannin your plot? |
Half a brick sting, Hermy Heavy, hand me the glock |
Hundred grand inside a shoebox, his man did drop |
Some weed, who popped? |
You know scared money stinged with a two shot |
Dirty cash shinin’next day, women get new rocks |
Flashin’big heads, Hermy in benzies bangin’Tupac |
He lay up with the wiz because it’s too hot |
How the fuck them pussies try Myalansky bustin they ooh-wop? |
?Preparation verbalhands?, they want they loot butt |
He must’ve been a mad man, only really thugs come at ya, shoot ya Chase your bitch up off the road up in a? |
soup-up? |
M.I.A. |
chick found missin’in action, never no clue, what? |
And still the beef been over too months, to gain this meal, you front |
Ones that snitch, tongues get split, readin the clip, news at six |
For funds and bricks, runnin your shit, gun at your click, lutunza hit |
Fear type watch eyes that watch guys, wasn’t smart, why? |
Holdin your clip in your slot time |
Specialize a whole sale of hot nines |
State is ill, surely pumpin coke on? |
Locked in a frontline, cuz he was a fiend for chocolate-eyes |
Bang Marvin Gay CD let’s get it on, makin a wretch cry |
Bitches that he dated wasn’t dead fly |
His ugly chick Sibrina said he was hungry off lu-chi |
Shorty’s way of livin took a sen-sai, he was so surprised |
Should of seen how he flinched when he got baptised |
Took him to the safe and called told him? |
clap ties? |
One of his mans was throwin up cuz he panicked, slug in his left eye |
Bleedin, heard the ambulance, the cat died |
Escapin with the safe like a half of a cake, come on, yo, let’s slide |
Amateurs frontin and shit, matchin in death, for funds and bricks |
Cousin was rich, lutunza hit |