Текст песни Kill Street Blues - Spice 1
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
morning
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
morning
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Sit
your
5 dollar
ass
down
Nigga
'fore
a
chief
baller
make
change
Cookin'
up
yae,
yo
at
3 in
the
mornin'
Choppin'
up
game
sackin'
up
caine
Fetty
was
layin'
all
over
the
floor
I
guess
you
cold
say
that
I
was
slippin'
As
the
door
kick
in
I
stick
in
my
clip
and
begin
the
dippin'
Up
on
these
so
called
popo
But
I
know
it
can't
be
nuthin'
but
some
niggas
Runnin'
up
in
ski
masks
So
I
continue
to
curse
and
blast
that
asses
out
Tryin'
to
gaffle
the
scratch
my
gat
consumes
Just
then
my
killa
partner
steps
outta
the
bathroom
Uzi's
and
Mack
thangs
start
lettin'
off
Niggas
catchin'
slugs
to
the
face
Baking
soda
some
niggas
brains
cocaine
all
over
the
place
Took
a
dive
behind
the
coach
Heard
a
nigga
say,
"We
gonn'
kill
you"
My
2 twin
gats
start
talkin'
to
me
said,
"Fuck
them
niggas
I
feel
you"
So
I
bail
up
outta
the
cut,
tryin'
ta
take
lives
with
no
remorse
Lookin'
like
a
scene
with
Laurence
Fishborne
in
"The
King
of
New
York"
Now
it's
3 o'clock
in
the
mornin'
and
I
still
don't
snooze
'Cuz
all
my
life
niggas
be
given
me
all
these
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
morning
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
morning
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
1 nigga
died
high
Face
down
in
uncut
yae
I
stuck
my
finger
up
in
the
hole
in
his
body
Told
him
have
a
nice
day
My
homie
said,
"The
real
feds
is
comin'",
said
he
was
hit
I
pull
the
bloody
corpse
off
his
body,
he
told
me
get
the
shit
Ran
to
the
kitchen,
hopin'
over
the
deceased
Gotta
get
the
rocks
money
and
powder,
and
evade
the
police
Put
the
fetty
up
in
my
hand,
gotta
be
quick,
gotta
be
nimble
Look
to
my
left
seen
3 federalles
cars
in
the
window
Now
it's
time
for
me
and
my
homie
to
mob
the
fuck
on
out
As
we
mob
up
outta
there
3 federalles
mob
in
the
house
Can't
say
nuthin'
about
them
other
niggas
them
haters
is
out
there
dead
Couple
a
slugs
up
in
they
head,
with
a
house
full
of
feds
And
ain't
no
time
to
be
stickin'
around
I'm
hearin'
them
ambulances
and
homocides
I'm
ready
to
bail
outta
the
scene
and
flee
up
in
this
"G"
ride
I'm
thinkin'
my
homie
heart
stopped
nigga
dyin'
on
me
Partner
dropped
down
to
the
ground
That's
when
them
popo
started
firin'
on
me
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Threw
the
caine
down
got
to
mobbin'
off
As
the
popo
yelled
out
freeze
Lost
a
down
ass
homie
and
the
yae,
yo
man
But
fuck
it
I'ma
keep
the
cheese
My
partners
eyes
wide
open
Nigga
layin'
there
one
breath
too
short
But
each
time
ya
nigga
Spice
1 hit
the
corner
In
a
big
white
cloud
of
smoke
Federalles
on
my
bumper
baby
Fittin'
ta
show
'em
I
ain't
no
punk
Use
the
right
hand
to
do
the
drivin'
thang
And
the
left
hand
ready
to
dump
Led
'em
on
a
high
speed
chase
For
about
30
minutes
or
a
little
bit
more
Got
a
triple
thang
murder
up
under
my
belt
'Bout
60
thousand
ta
doe,
doe
Oh,
no
Heard
a
slg
hit
my
back
tire
Then
I
spun
around
Runnin'
into
the
side
while
tearin'
all
shit
down
Bitches
was
screamin'
niggas
was
cussin'
Po
Po
bustin'
at
me,
punk
ass
nigga
Run
into
the
liquor
store
Knowin'
they'll
never
catch
me
But
soon
as
I'm
thinkin'
of
makin'
my
getaway
Ain't
this
a
bitch
some
fedy
with
a
12
gauge
Put
the
barrel
fight
up
to
my
shit,
"Stay
right
there
nigga"
Pull
out
the
money
and
all
of
a
sudden
I
hit
the
floor
Looked
up
and
see
the
barrel
of
Sgt
Kickass'
4,
4
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(3
in
the
mornin'
popo
at
my
door)
This
is
kill
street
blues
Cookin'
up
yae
in
the
pure
form
of
a
rock
This
is
how
we
clock,
stroll
up
on
my
block
(I'm
wonderin'
if
really
popo
with
y'all)
This
is
kill
street
blues
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