Kool G Rap - Hitman's Diary paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Hitman's Diary - Kool G Rap



Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with
The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick
Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip
Niggas is struck with the underworld click
Yo it was midnight n' rainy and, spotted these three Panamanians
Gold chains, and carryin' Iranians
Pulled out to stain-y and, these cats might try to flame me
And shit, might be hit sent from this bitch nigga Damien
Used to slang 'caine, back to back, up in this game we in
Went against the grain when he got banged in his cranium
Now he got cats all on my back, tryin to bang me and
From Peru, flew in a crew of evil, now shit is lethal
Drew the Eagle, blew about two
And made one of them dudes see-through, but I still see two
Of his peoples, up in a Regal, and they got heat to equal
Shit that got put at Benny Siegel, fuck these illegal
Alien-ass niggas out of the grass
Put extra clips up on the dash and continued to blast
Fire flashed, I left another one of em splashed
A bloodbath, three niggas found dead on the ave
Went to a phone and hit my nigga Big C, swiftly
Yo dig this shit G, these niggas tried to hit me
Yo meet me in about fifty, with Big Ash, we movin' quickly
I'm about to hit D, put that motherfucker six feet
"Aiyyo what happened G?" Niggas on the ave was clappin' at me
Bustin' at me, tryin' a put caps in my nappy
"Yo, as long as you made it kid I'm happy"
We still goin' to where this cat be, with AK's all day
Called up my nigga Jay, call the nigga Damien for me, okay?
Make it about 3:38, straight, this is what you say
"Aiyyo we fucked up, he got away"
If he play, I'm a split his toupee, we on our way
To this nigga's office, with armed forces, he showin' softness
And watchin, horses racin' with other bosses
Pulled out the torches, the nigga saw the guns, got stunned
He probably got numb, knowin' he bout to catch a hot one
Terrorizin' the whole spot son, the phone rung
He acted like it was the wrong number, lookin' all dumb
Hands on the Glock spun, five minutes later, the shots rung
That nigga got done, died with his hand on a cocked gun
February 14 in '95, time: about 4:45
I'm coppin' pies in a high-rise
Dealin with shit like this you need five eyes, dinosaur size
These fuckin' cha-cha's, have you covered with flies
Came in with two wiseguys, fuckin' guns big as life-size
Had the chick up on the bed and shit, with the nice thighs
Yo senorita, mamacita, wish to plead with the boricua cliqua
Arriba, flash the heat-ahs
We started talkin, seconds later two Cubans walked in
Haulin' package of silver chalk in, shit ain't the raw and
Became a war man, he put two in my man's internal organs
Before the poison, drown a fuckin' free man like Morgan
Two hit the floorin' with blood pourin' left em snorin'
Their wigs tore in, layin' all up against the door then
Them niggas sprayed, I caught a slug in my shoulder blade
My boulder grazed, I'm catchin' flashbacks of older days
In the small caves, I'm dazed and shit
She goin' a bed with the spray shit, tryin' a lay shit
OK bitch, and fuck the gay shit, started to lay shit
And left the brave bitch wet, part of her neck and face hit
Emptied the clip, then replaced it
Niggas is on the floor tomato pasted
Wasted, spirit erased it
Body case it, went to the other side, embrace it
The whole place is lit, we Scarface the shit
Cigar case n' shit, on some marksmen shit
One nigga strainin' moanin' in pain aimin' his biscuit
My man fixed it, left him with his wig twisted
Wipe all my fingerprint ballistics, went to the other room
And saw the brick shit, straight legit shit, bag it and zip it
Left out the front door like we ain't do shit



Writer(s): Wilson Nathaniel Thomas


Kool G Rap - Roots of Evil
Album Roots of Evil
date de sortie
20-10-1998




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