Bronze Nazareth feat. Masta Killa & Inspectah Deck - The Road paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson The Road - Inspectah Deck , Masta Killa , Bronze Nazareth



Black male, jail cell, same hell, murderous prospects
Drain ale, same pale, buck shots, reign hail
Same meal, stepping like robot, pain kill
Shrill scream from silk screen to nine mill
Plus my will, cook a meal like rosewoods
I'm coming for them gold goods, persistent like dope head
My briscket toasted, roping fine hoes, acid for flat bread
Salicic, catch a casket drifting
Unbutton hostlers Embroidered clips in
Chicago Bear cough, clip ya to snare off
Pick six to carry off his coffin
While I'm lofting pterodactyl off white widow endorsement
Back to the ward street lawn, heaters and more shit
My literary literally drown your war ship
Send a shell non terrapin style to the corporate
First forty eight hours he's never seen, no force could measure me
The hunts off when he endorse my treasury
Yellow apparition, smell of kush and incense
I dwell on fences where the Air Force is scared of going off course
Burn you after murder spree then I off the witness
Double dutch and I don't mean the ropes, I'm off the benches
Coughing endless, cumulous blends off a genius intention
Bring the ninja henchmen
Spent shells on ya lawn, it was expensive
Now there's one thing I should mention
Massive pounds of pressure
Nothing can hold me, watch as I levitate gravity
None could match me, cave chest cavity
Basic mathematical flow, like the mac spray
Monumental word play, carefully construct the measurements
When you weigh it up, refine it to it's highest science
A spill of carbon, one gun shot of diesel
A microphone touch ignition, planet eruption
Underworld corruption, don't trust him it's sadly to say
You might have to bust him one day, I thought I told you
Broad day bullets over Broadway for more pay
Verbal assault, leave bitches wet more then foreplay
All day, this is routine, not a facade
No mirage, no regard, no HBO Entourage
Bloodsport, caught with the force, Star Wars, Skywalker
Offin' your boss, tossin' your broad
And there's no shells, left in the drawer, spent them in war
Nobodies leaving til we settle the score
Chose the high road, never look down, like if my eyes closed
Mine flows, trying to get mine, before the time goes
Ayatollah mind controller, free of the blindfolds
Survive where 50s, 47s, and nines blow
Big don, boss underdog from the rip bomb
Click strong, Melo with the handle like the Knicks on
Clips drawn, ducking the blues, choose a fit form
Big arms, lay down your king, only six pawns



Writer(s): Jason Hunter, Justin Cross


Bronze Nazareth feat. Masta Killa & Inspectah Deck - School for the Blindman
Album School for the Blindman
date de sortie
13-09-2011



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