Текст песни Come on - THOMAS

COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!!!
Come on motherfuckers, come on
Release the brainstorm
To make your motherfuckin' brain warm
A strange form, somethin kind of lyrical
Biggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritual
Well "In God We Trust", guns I bust
Got that disgustin, sewer style dumpin
And that uhh (singing) do you knowwwwww
Where you're goin to
Do you like the things that I bring?
I got seven Mac-11's, about eight, .38's
Nine 9's, ten Mac-10's, the shits never end
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
HAH, that's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the landspread
Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give emcees the runs drippin;
When I throw my clip in the A.K., I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flows remarkable
Peace to Matteo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the llello
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jailcells
Oh my God I'm droppin shit like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin, smackin babies at they christening
So you better grab your pistol
Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fuckin shit spill
And I'm talkin bout buckets, why did I have to do it?
Sadat said fuck it, you got a gun, nigga bust it
Cause I got mo' shots to pop-ya
Big Pop-pa, breakin you off somethin proper

Signin off is the hardcore rap singer
A.k.a. crack slinger, bring it anytime

Come on motherfuckers, come on

So you wanna be hardcore
With your hat to the back
Talking about the gats in your raps
But I can't feel that hardcore
Appeal that you're screaming
Maybe I'm dreaming
This ain't Christopher Williams, still some
MC's got to feel one
Caps, I got to peel some

To let niggas know
That if you fuck with big-and-heavy
I get up in that ass like a wedgie
Niggas saying: "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle!"
Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me
Just for niggas acting shifty
Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker
Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor
Smoking blunts by the boxes, packing Glocks
It's natural to eat you niggas like chocolates
The funk, baby

All I want is bitches, big-booty bitches
Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches
Now I pack gats to stop all the snitches
From staying in my business, what is this, relentless
Approach to know if I'm broke or not
Just cause I joke and smoke a lot
Don't mean I don't tote the Glock
16 shots for my niggas in the pen
Until we motherfucking meet again
I'm doing rhymes
Cause I'm knee-deep in the beats
In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the MAC-10 by the seats
For the jackers, the jealous-ass crackers in the *blue suits*
I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof
Hold your head, cause when you hit the bricks
I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches sucking dick
The funk, baby

The funk, baby

Come on, COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!!!

Come on motherfuckers, come on

You know the story, the rap-side, crack-side
How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside
Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests
Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test
The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya
High as a motherfuckin helicopter
That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor
Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina

A nigga never been as broke as me, I like that
When I was young I had two pair of Lees, besides that
The pin stripes and the gray (uh-huh)
The one I wore on Mondays and Wednesdays
While niggas flirt, I'm sewing tigers on my shirt
And alligators
Ya wanna see the inside, huh, I see ya later

Oh, that's that nigga wit the fake, blaow!
Why you punch me in my face, stay in ya place
Play ya position, here come my intuition
Go in this nigga pocket
Rob him while his friends watchin
That hoes clockin, here comes respect
His crew's your crew, or they might be next
Look at they man eye, big man they never try
So we roll wid em, stole wid em
I mean loyalty, niggas bought me milks at lunch
The milks was chocolate, the cookies, buttercrunch

I have enough heart for most of em
Long as I got stuff from most of em
It's on, even when I was wrong I got my point across
They depicted me the boss, of course
My orange box-cutter make the world go round
Plus I'm fuckin, bitches ain't my homegirls now
Start stackin, dabbled in crack, gun packin
Nickname Medina, make the seniors tote my ninas
From gym class, to Englass, pass off a global
The only nigga wit a mobile, Can't You See like Total
Gettin larger in waist and taste
Ain't no tellin where this felon is headin, just in case
Keep a shell at the tip of ya melon, clear da space
Ya brain was a terrible thing ta waste

After realizin, to master enterprisin
I ain't have ta be in school by ten, I was in
Began to encounter, wit my counter-parts
I holla burn the block apart, break it down into sections
Drugs by the selection
Some use pipes, others use in-jec-tions
Syringe sold seperately, Frank the deputy
Quick to grab my Smith-n-Wessun, like my dick was missin
To protect my position, my corner, my layer
While we out here, say the hustlas prayer
Take a better stand
Put money in my moms hand
Get my daughter this college plan, so she don't need no man
Stay far from timid
Only make moves when ya heart's in it
And live the phrase Sky's The Limit

...see you chumps on top

Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on
Just keep on pressin on
Sky is the limit and you know that you can have
What you want, be what you want

Motherfucker