paroles de chanson Yours (feat. O.C.) - Big L , O.C.

Yeah, Big L, Corleone, a.k.a. Tommy Gibbs
Flamboyant Entertainment
D.I.T.C. forever
Word up, it′s time to let these punk niggas know
We gonna hit 'em like this, check it out
Yo, while y′all standing on the corner bummy and high
I'm out buying the finest things money can buy
Cats frontin' like they holdin′, but them crabs is broke
Chippin′ in for 10 dollar bags of smoke
All on my back because of the fame and the wealth
You male groupie, you ought to be ashamed of yourself
Plus I'm running with thugs that bust slugs at the heat
I be the MC who mad chicks be lovin′ to meet
And I'm not just a rapper, I got drugs on the street
I swear you′ll never catch Corleone with Lugz on his feet
If you think I'm not as nice as whoever
Then put your money up!
Put your jewels up, whatever, put your honey up!
Put your raggedy house up, punk! Or shut your mouth up
Before I buck lead, make a lot of blood shed
Turn your trunks red, far from broke, got enough bread
Mad hoes, ask Beavis, I get nothing butt head
[Hook: O.
To the tic tic and you don′t quit
Let no man stand in between you and your dough and shit
Being broke is a bitch, y'all
There's no such thing as quit, y′all
As long as you breathe life you gotta get yours
(Repeat 2x)
[Verse 2: O.
True indeed, L, I hear these niggas talking out their mouth slick
Mad ′cause they bitches is all on our dick
Peeping us out at the bar checking out what kind of champagne we sip, jealous of the ice on my wrist
We pop Don and Crys, no less
Hard pressed motherfuckers chippin' in for White Star Moet
Chickenheads flock around us, thug niggas protect us
At the end of the night, all the hoes want to sex us
While y′all stand stagnated with blue balls
You face the song, "You'll Never Find" Lou Rawls
Shit, I don′t fuck a nigga with two good hands and feet
Be bummin' and not surviving the streets
Get your weight up, right now, we ain′t promised later
Do what you gotta do to get those big-headed papers
Even if it means you need a team pulling a caper
Instead of going out like Pushead & Black, straight up
Check it, my shit is so hot, I give the mic a heat rash
I keep cash, you couldn't pay me to rhyme if the beat's trash
I stay bulletproofed up, Benz couped up
When it′s cold I rock the mink or the Triple Goose stuff
(No doubt we′re souped up, African as fuck
Niggas can't touch what we′re holding
When it comes to the buck
I push the double R, ride through the city like a star
Dough bulging out my pockets like my dick be hard)
I gotta go see papi and snatch his brick up
But first, I'ma smack this bitch up
′Cause she scratched my six up
I ain't the one to tax or stick up, cats get hit up
Fronting on me, y′all niggas got nothing on me
(Let's double the cream and stay pop, and hold it for ransom
Keep the bricks, sell 'em all, triple the pie, handsome
Kill two birds with one stone, get full blown
Tango and Cash, live niggas, Mush and Corleone)
I be up in the cut, up in some guts
While you home busy stuck in a rut
And wonder why you keep fuckin′ it up
I got your whole crew suckin′ it up
And pussy cats ain't nothin′ but butt
Better go back to cuttin' it up, puttin′ it up
Plus I heard your girl was up in the butt
Measuring off brown niggas while I'm truckin′ it up
And if you ever get ahead it ain't nothin' but luck
I′m the beat digger, hip-hop complete nigga
You never fall off, ′cause I move sweet, nigga
Street nigga, but I can talk to the whitey
Push seven buttons and organize an all-nighty
Sons call me almighty, 'cause I′m nice with mine
Surrounded by ice and dimes while you bite your rhymes
Full equipped with rhetoric that enlights the mind
Love it when the sun lights my shine due to knowledge, uh