Текст песни Jackpot - U-God feat. Jackpot Scotty Wotty

The ripper, the jackpot
Cheddar cheese stacker
Chip of the black crypt
Rhymes say cracker
I have you leaping like a Greenbay packer
Newest sensations off the meat racker
I had to mention it,
I knew it would attract her
I was all cool i was waiting for the after
Book of jackpot,
Pick your own chapter

Feasting and feasting and living like a trapper
Chick stay spending like a Mexican gatling
.48 shit, just a piece of the action
Yeah you know about that fatal attraction
Brand new shit that was made for crashin′
The pomelade, the marmalade that was
For Maxim
Knuckleheads niggas need John the Baptist
So get it up like ranson

I need play everyday like the national anthem
You don't have to like it ′cause it's good
Oh shit i'm sitting in my crib, I′m writing rhymes in the hood
Drunk niggas misunderstood
You know them sober mother fuckers better knock on wood
I put it out ′cause it's ample
Them greedy G′s drop dead off the toothpick sample
And then you grab a whole handful
You wanna slam off the block with some Jackpot pamphlets

And don't question the answer
My word play diagnosed like terminal cancer
And people thinking I′m a phantom and
Like i'm all made up like Marilyn Manson
Hey little nigga you my grandson
′Cos if you bite my stuff you gonna need a transfer
You know I told you was no dancer
I need play everyday like the national anthem
So get it up like ranson
I need play everyday like the national anthem

Cab Calloway on to Billie Holiiday
These niggas couldn't see me, Donnie Hathaway
They say what them niggas heard you
Three blocks away
You know I smoke cats like 3 packs a day
There's no Gizmo, Satchmo is Armstrong
Breakbeat, one take, lean on a Horne
Scratch my brick and I get ya′ Main Ingredients
Slam my door and I′ll be reaching for that Commodore
Everybody wants to a Gordy goody

You know another black teen got buried in a hoody
Some do it to live in a pink bubble
He said he did it for the team
Just to stay outta trouble
You see Charlie had a Parker
Regina rang a Belle
I had Anita baking cake
And the back's still well

All′s forgiven, welcome to Thanksgiving
Order me three Bernie Mac's
Three 6 packs of all gold
Make sure it′s Nat King cold

Make sure it's Nat King cold

Make sure it′s Nat King cold

I got the hot shit cooking on the stove