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St. Lunatics
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Versurile St. Lunatics - Real Niggaz
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[(Chorus - Nelly) 2x]
Real niggas ride wit' us
You haters gotta ride the bus
Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
Real niggas ride wit' us (and dime ladies)
You haters gotta ride the bus (we drop crazy)
Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
[Kyjuan]
Kyjuan's a preppy hippy, cross the bridgy of
Mississippi
I slang thangs, make bread, easy like Jiffy
Call me a cool nigga or a Mr. refriger'
Kids ask me ("Mr. can you get crunk and jiggy?")
I reply quickly, bottle of Andres or Crissy
Smoke backyard or sticky, my man, watch me get
busy
I wake up with two dimes, both named Nikki
I'm a playa dirty, no passion marks, no hickies
Cats make me sick when I roll through y'all city
Lookin like angry mad, face mad, teeth gritty
You gon' make me go back into my days of U-City
Cornrows, penny bros and new Dickies
Ahh shit, when situation looks shitty
I got that thang with me, plus I Puff like Diddy
You niggas can't hang with me, or pop the pain
with me
So wrap somethin mo' and hop in the Range with me
[Ali]
Check, check
No picture me rollin, Optimo, glocka four-four
Four-do' Range Rov', mink with matchin Kangol
Whole hood like "oh", freakin 'em out they mind
D's with diamonds on 'em, jackers, I know they
want 'em
Not, you see the watch, Rollie or G-shot
You hear me four, five blocks before you see me,
that's the knock
I need not speak on that, I speak on Zack
And how he better fix my shit or give my eight
G's back
Salute the rugged, flip screen, you gotta love it
Navigational system behind the ten, duckin the
public
Take my chain off to thaw out, battle four out
We fill, the fattest wad a hun'neds you ever saw
out
Son break the jar out, twist the muskie
Only real niggas ride and smoke, patna trust me
If I'm lyin, bad mouth, slap then crush me
Cuss me, suplex lamb, grab the nine and bust me
'Cause only....
[Chorus]
[Nelly]
I'm like the battery, I come through every door
on a cell (Duracell)
Mr. energizer, forever ready to make a mil'
Fuck that Cris', let it spill, I hit the gas, and
make it peel
I'm smokin twenty inches of Parelli, wha, up off
the wheel
I hit the jewelry store at noon, slight case of
the chills
I got the face too damn chunky 'cause it's still
read "twelve"
Well hell, not a shit starter but I be startin
some shit
Half the time I'm in the club, half the niggas
gettin pissed
Me, got they miss, I done, caught they wrist
And they be thinkin you cockblockin 'cause you
gave her a kiss
I walks over to your bitch and asks her "who's is
this?"
(yours Nelly)
Tell 'em one more time just in case he forgets
I be the sleepy eyed, kinky guy, the chinky eye
Comin be like I, ay, EI, ready the guy
Nigga hella high, country grammar, yellin "EI!"
Fuckin your cutie pie, forty-nine, not gettin
none
[Murphy Lee]
You shoulda' seen this ladie's face when I walked
in the bank
I'm the school boy, I'm Hollywood, smellin like
dank
Lookin like I don't know left from right
Holdin a check, got the whole front desk like
"Murphy's set for life!"
I agree wit' em, I exchange sacks with seeds in
'em
Drivin eighty in the rainiest Rov', TV's in 'em
I'm St. Lou, plus true to the arch equals I'm
real
I'm Hollywood, plus true to the heart equals a
mil'
I'm killin y'all, matter fact I'm killin myself
In a category with T-Boz, I'm feelin myself
It gets no better, Slo says it gotta get better
Gotta get wood, gotta get dubs, we gotta get
leather
I'm like, what, real playas roll on dubs
(Lunatics like)
And haters can't kick it wit' us (and our blunts
tight)
We smokin 'til our brain gon' bust
Gettin head in the back of the truck, City what
up
I'm like only....
[(Chorus) 2x]
Melodia cuvinte asculta melodia versurile muzica piesa versuri versuri. Real Niggaz album St. Lunatics cuvinte muzica straina versurile muzica.
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