Diddy, Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z - Young G's // lyrics // traplord jenkins

Описание: Diddy, Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z - Young G's // lyrics // traplord jenkins
Diddy, Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z - Young G's
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Lyrics:
(Man! I'm back man!)
Uhh, check it out, uhh
I steps in, where the Mo's and the hoes at bay-bee?!
f**k all that pretty s**t
Taking it back to the gutter for you motherf**kers
n***as know the deal
n***as know who the Don is
Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one
Peep game, uhh, what, what, what

Out of this world like Mars, when I spit these bars
Come f**k with these stars up in luxury cars (yeah)
We built in radars to stay free from the cops
Crucial choices to make, like A-C or the drop (haha)
Are we gonna stop? s**t man, if my squad go broke
Your squad oughta choke
Watch your circle vanish like cigar smoke
Ain't no joke, when your ones don't show
n***a I know, might say 'Been There Done That' like Dre (uh-huh)
Through hard work I earn the vault
Promise God to never look back or I turn to salt (yeah)
Got nice watches, nice cars, nice b**ches and rings (c'mon)
Guess it's safe to say a n***a like me got nice things (that's right)
Can't relate to motherf**kers, who ain't go no cake (uh-uh)
When you all f**ked up, and can't get no break (uh-huh)
When your fake a** friends don't help you out when you need it
Be on some real bulls**t, politely tell you to beat it (uh)
f**k that, get your own n***a, don't ask me for s**t
That's what I did, now they all asking for hits (yeah)
n***a it's on for the simple fact I let it be known
We still fly but separately 'cause now I charter my own (c'mon)
Propellers, Goodfellas, leave all them playa haters jealous
Billboard charts should tell us (yeah)
They can't touch us, why n***as bring the ruckus?
Because release date's bigger than Mandela's, motherf**kers

Just some ghetto boys
Living in these ghetto streets (These ghetto streets)
And every day, they gotta fight to stay alive
It's just reality

Yeah, make you a deal, check
These here's the dog years and motherf**kers don't shed
I try to bring you life but motherf**kers want dead
So I travel with the barrel, with the chrome, with the lead
'Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flown through your head
I been rich, I been poor, I saved and blown bread
Some say I been here before because of the way I zone
Some said, Jigga zone's like the falling of Rome
Reoccurring, that he thinks like that 'cause he's observant
Won't be known until I'm gone and n***as study my bones
Mentally been many places, but I'm Brooklyn's own
In the physical, unseen like Allah's body
In fact my thoughts don't differ much from that of God body
But it's the R-shottie, that got cats, likening me
To the mob John Gotti, rap dudes biting me 'cause
I got it locked like the late Bob Marley
Pardon me, y'all, the great Bob Marley
Solemnly, we mourn all the rappers that's gone
n***as that got killed in the field and all the babies born
Know they ain't fully prepared for this New World Order
So I keep it ghetto like sunflower seeds and quarter waters
You walk 'em through it, you know, talk 'em through it
Know these beats is more than music whenever I talk to it
Destined for greatness, and y'all knew this when I doubled the pie
Had a shorty in a girdle coming out of B-W-I
(In school) I hated algebra but I loved to multiply
And I told my n***a Big I'd be multi before I die
And it's gon' happen, whether rapping or clapping, have it your way
'Cause if that's my dough you're trapping, I'm clapping your way
It's for the ghetto...

Damn, it feel good to see people up on it (uh)
Flipped two keys in two weeks and didn't flaunt it (uh-huh)
My brain is haunted, with mean dreams
GSs with BBs on it, supreme schemes
To get richer than Richie, quickly, n***as wanna hit me
If they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I f**k with, now peep the rough s**t
In my circumference, mad b**ches with mad lucci
Bulletproof vestses under they Coogi
Spittin' my Uzi, don't lose me, my trigger n***as represent
Driving dirty in J-30s gettin' bent (uh-huh)
And to my hit hoes, my murder mamis
I be smokin' trees in Belize when they find me
While you still killin' n***as with punani, like heiny
And Cyrus up in Cypress f**k you raw, you on the floor with the virus
While I just, slang coke, smoke pounds of choke (uh-huh)
Got lawyers watching lawyers so I won't go broke, now check it
Them country n***as call me Frank White
I'm squirtin' off in my loft, of course I know my s**t's tight
Sunrise, open my eyes, no surprise
Got my shorty flyin' in with keys taped to her thighs
With all the utensils, who hang my china thing
She half-black, half-oriental, eighty-six, she got me rental
The situation ain't accidental
What? From a, from a young G's perspective, uhh...
What? From a, from a young G's perspective, uhh...

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