Текст песни Who We Rep With - Nas , Bravehearts , 50 Cent
Hats
off,
to
da
rich
ones
who
flash
and
floss
Pour
some
liquors
out
to
my
dogs
trapped
up
north
Reminisce
on
the
deceased
who
no
longer
exist
Only
wishin′
we
could
bring
them
back
with
songs
like
dis
Old
flicks
on
us
chillin'
wit
da
old
time
click
Holdin′
nines,
thoughts
of
death,
not
our
lives
we
risk
How
it
use
to
be,
early
morn,
pumpin'
in
shifts
Jakes
wit
pale
faces
in
the
night
is
the
scariest
They
handcuff
me,
they
knew
my
government
and
alias
Various
calls
were
made
up
for
awarin'
us
The
D′s
in
the
marked
vans
and
cabs
In
our
land,
hoodrats
get
stapped
by
niggas
who
forty
Turnin′
out
young
lady's
and
make
them
make
thoughties
Got
them
coked
out,
the
hood
is
bugged
out
Thug
babies,
famous
in
they
strollers
Before
they
walk
they
knew
the
hood
talk
It′s
in
the
air
of
New
York
So
everybody'll
pick
em
up,
kissin
em
up
Treatin′
them
like
they
own,
in
dis
hood
we
call
home
Fist
fight
till
we
grown
and
these
guns
come
out
Circle
of
life,
it's
kinda
deep
how
we
end
out
Yo
them
niggas
that
wanted
beef
before
Don′t
want
no
beef
no
mo
Now
that
they
know
who
I
rep
with
QB
NIGGA!!!
Who
I
rep
with
QB
NIGGA!!!
(repeat)
Ya'll
niggas
better
sober
up
before
ya'll
speak
to
me,
don′t
come
at
me
high
Last
rapper
that
raised
his
voice
to
me,
got
japped
in
da
eye
Now
if
I
say
I′m
gone
get
you,
I'mma
get
ya
On
da
strength
of
da
inf,
from
long
range
I
can
hit
ya
You
find
out
them
niggas
who
wit
ya
ain′t
even
wit
ya
After
da
gem
stars
split
ya,
you
need
an
MD
to
stitch
ya
Peep
how
I
use
words
to
paint
pictures
Peep
how
I
got
niggas
with
bodies
askin'
me
for
ten
cents
to
got
hit
ya
Look
my
name
up
in
the
law
book,
Curtis
Jackson
Known
for
creatin′
action,
by
rapidly
clappin'
Nigga
I
stay
strapped,
so
much
I
nickname
gats
Got
a
tech
I
call
Tina,
a
nine
I
name
Nina
Two
niggas
went
to
see
Allah
afta
they
seen
her
This
QB
shit,
bout
to
take
me
to
da
next
level
Next
crib,
next
Benz,
next
bitch,
next
bezel
It′s
that
real
Yo,
aiyyo,
who
da
fuck
wanna
war
I
got
a
four
four,
pierce
ya'll
niggas
jaw
You
see
me
thugged
out,
iced
out,
Guinness
Stout
Hopin'
out
the
Range
wit
da
gun
out
Smack
your
man
down,
you
ran
off
I
was
gonna
hit
him
with
two,
I
left
some
for
you
I
put
four,
QB
rugged
and
raw
I
got
somethin′
for
these
rap
cats,
fish
held
back
gats
Scope
wit
a
beam
on
it,
loc
put
your
cream
on
it
Shine
don′t
scheme
on
it,
I
make
your
dream
about
it
Forever,
whatever
whatever
get
gully
Shots
thru
your
leather
and
clothe,
With
your
skelly
off
Break
ya'll
clowns
off
Yo
hollow
tips
will
flood
your
jacket,
I
don′t
give
a
fuck
who
you
be
Millennium
Thug,
now
who
da
fuck
want
it
with
me
I
mastered
the
art
of
slap
boxin'
niggas
in
da
dark
QB′s
big
man,
Horse
of
the
Bravehearts
I'm
da
Sasquash
of
rap,
collector
of
gats
Testin′
macks
at
your
bulletproof
vests
and
hats
How
bout
that,
guns
bust
off,
I
bust
back
When
trucks
backfire,
I
bust
back
How
bout
that,
stomp
a
muhfuckin'
rib
out
ur
back
Ya'll
niggas
ain′t
gangsta
rap,
ya′ll
click
like
Josey
and
the
Pussycats
When
we
come
around
da
front,
stop
Uh
huh,
ya'll
can′t
fuck
around
ya'll
get
dropped
When
guns
pop,
who′s
tellin'
Twin
barrel
nines
wavin′
and
yellin',
QB
NIGGA
WHAT
Two-time
felon,
straight
to
da
melon,
straight
to
da
dome
Send
a
nigga
back,
get
da
shells,
go
straight
home
Never
slip,
my
+Ill
Will+
to
survive
is
so
deep
Can't
sleep,
cousin
to
death,
makes
me
weak
Pullin′
triggers
at
my
shadow,
Bravehearts
pop
up
Wiz,
Jungle
and
Horse
shot
your
block
up
1 Stretch Armstrong Freestyle
2 Got Me a Bottle
3 Clue Freestyle
4 Interlude
5 Poison
6 Kweli Freestyle
7 Wangsta
8 Shoutouts
9 Bad Luck
10 Hoes
11 Exclusive
12 Killer's Theme
13 Just Be Friends
14 Little Bit of Everything
15 We Like It
16 Who We Rep With
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