paroles de chanson Nutin' Ta Lose - Dred Scott

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Check it out y'all
Check it out y'all
Check it out ya'll
Dred Scott in the house, one time ya'll
To the beat that makes you move
Coolin out with the funk, uh, with the tree trunk
Funk, that makes you wanna move, yeahhh
Coolin in the ice pick, stuck in your head
Super fly can't recruit, is what pops once said
Speak soft, and keep your big sticks wrapped for the honeys scrubbin
They all say they ain't money grubbin
Stay above the cloud for the sheer love of rap
Comin' off like the cop, cause stolen up caps
Move like Huggy Bear with my kung-fu grip
Wreckin' companies that didn't dig the Dred, was equipped to make
Do without a gimmick
I had to have a crew with this or that, or my take
Bump the avenue, my etiquette
Said, get a brick, bash the fools
Empty out the register, I took your cash and juice
And put my own record out, b of course you know
Start my own camp fire, like course parole
I did rough to the third power, afro starler
Of the ancestor from never stink a dollar
Yo, i've been fired, by my man Mr.Slank
Like a metal gym-hat, yo the kid don't break
And even if I'm in the third quarter, down by 40, I'ma cruise
I got Nutin' Ta Lose
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Back on point, I got some more flavor for ya
Pervertery boots, rather than Tom Sawyer
I kill black seeds, I'm thinkin he's a godfather
Sinkin' more simps than the Japanese at Pearl Harbor
Funk faith dealer
Black Jack card dealer
21, I rush the hun, like a Pittsburg stealer
Never dope, like a broke, smoke that tec
Sweet miss gingerbread
Yeah, the Dred respects ya
Says you was down and never call back
And now I'm paranoid like a black politician on crack
But no I never fuck when it comes to funk
Cause no tellin who it starts with, the watermelon tuck
You're a tucka-duck season, testin me, see ones
For the sucka-burgers, that you're packin like re-run
Skinny-skirt Lily, you claim to be loyal
Like the flip side of Popeye, I don't follow boils
Skinny ass
One-Hundred dip shop, so we stirrin up
Make my arm strong like Louis
Only break I ever got, was the dope fractional
Lookiee heree, everybody do the Dred Scott Boogie
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Yeah
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Uh yes-yes y'all
Hah!
For your pleasure
For the underground, like some fuckin buried treasure
Pickin up the mic, like a shovel, can you dig it?
And if you don't wanna pay, fair, here's ya ticket
Barber of some milf-Cadillac, that is
Loot the big head, coolin with the fat wizz
See the sucka talkin, I pull a 40, dig me?
Got fucked up, like the alcoholic kidney
Now its a scene, in your membrane, swollen and yo comin up
Shorter than your man Gary Colman
The pop-rap mugger
My beat stay healthy
Louis-Vill Slugga, with the bags in my belt-free
Yeah the underdog is about to run a muck
And if you parkin in my zone, I'ma play the tow truck
Did you think I didn't have enough to pull ya over
Your convertible, gremlin, just got towed
By the one and only, that you said wouldn't have a chance
Like Elvis, trapped up in the James Brown avalanche
And like to run away, slave, gettin' headed with no shoes
Yo, I got Nutin' Ta Lose
So, check it out ya'll
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Uh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose (Yeah,Yeah,Yeah)
Oh, Dred Scott ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose
Oh, Disco ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose
Oh, Dominoes ain't got Nutin' Ta Lose
Oh, Martin Luther didn't have Nutin' Ta Lose
Oh, Malcom X didn't have Nutin' Ta Lose
Unemployed brothas got Nutin' Ta Lose
Everybody in the world, yo you got Nutin' To Lose
So you gotta pay your dues