Texty: TRU (Master P). They Can't Stop Us!.
What's up niggas?
I told y'all it's about to be on, nigga
We drop shit anytime we want to huh
Fell this nigga, it's real
Flippin' the the game niggas that got that 'cane
Murder Mr. Dopeman still in the rap game
It's 1997, my niggas gone to heaven
Rest in peace 2Pac from Master P, doin' 2-11s
187 Khadafi, murder puttin' niggas
In six foot motherfuckin' gurters
If you fuck with this Tru clique
Nigga you gettin' your wig spilt
Who run this gangster rap?
(No Limit runnin' this)
It's 'bout to be it, 187 Khadafi
Jumpin' on ghetto dope with these gangster topics
Still makin' scrilla your neighborhood drug dealer
Ice cream slaingin' tattooed up real nigga
In the rap game pushin' quarters
Flippin' the water, from Texas to Florida
Choppin' game to the knuckleheads
And spittin' voodoo on the motherfuckin' chicken heads
Down south hustlin', to the west coast
Got nigga choppin' game, I mean this rap shit in to dope
Puttin' them in packages, independent spittin' shit
Standing on stages with bullet-proof vests, lookin' for other cliques
But who gon' be the next nigga to die in this rap game
Or drop a hit on the wrong man?
'Cause they talkin' shit about other niggas
Now it's a war zone, in this rap game
But they can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, they'll be a million other niggas in line
With ghetto dope, bustin' ghetto rhymes y'all
Running from the one time not mines
Posted up, hostin' up like soldiers
Down south huster, throwin' boulders
Ready to block like a football player
Got these 17 rounds for y'all haters
So jump on this ghetto shit and come get this wicked shit
And jump up on this rap game and watch a nigga spit
Killer, murder topics put my goals if y'all think y'all can stop it
Hardcore bangin', hangin' slaingin'
Nigga down for whatever that's why we bangin' on wax
Into traps, got Beats by the Pound like niggas slaingin' sacks
In the 'hood, up to no good, got niggas 'bout it
From Baton Rouge to St. Louis to Cincinnati
Got niggas lined up in Atlanta like addicts
Gotta have this gangster shit, this real shit
From this motherfuckin' Tru clique, ain't givin' up, living raw
And if we die, fuck it, sell my 'dro to the next gangster nigga
Rest in peace Easy-E., but I'm out here makin' scrilla
So fuck y'all white laws and y'all motherfuckin' police cars
Comin' through with gangsters
And killers long live the motherfuckin' drug dealer
'97 to 2000 A.D. little kids wanna be me 'cause I'm 'bout it, I'm rowdy
The government and the press, them motherfuckers want me out
For runnin' my own shit, niggas sellin' their company
Like the slaves sold their souls to 30 cents break bread
Don't you know 15 percent of what you made?
You a sucker, a clucker, so stop rappin' hardcore
You hip-hop motherfuckers and stay true to the gizzame
Be about your paper, nigga fuck the fizzame third ward nigga
Runnin' the hill it ain't no limit to this gangster shit
Blunt smokes and keepin' it real
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, they'll be a million more Tru niggas
Bitch it be Slikk choppin' and kickin' shit like karate
Fast like a Mazzeroti, crime boss like John Gotti
Look into their face, niggas afraid of me
Look deeper into their eyes, they scared
Yeah y'all busters scared of me
'Cause I flow like water run shit like Ki-Jana Carter
Tell 'em, I'ma be there watch [Incomprehensible] like the French Quarter
Down for whatever bow down nigga never
Buck like a Beretta wet you up like bad weather
Got fangs like a cobra now I got Range like a Rover
You don't fuck with us whether you fucked up like a hangover
From the city where busters lie from the city where suckers die
Make way for P and Silkk, two of the baddest motherfuckers alive
Bitch it's your time, bitch I want the whole nine
Bust one line, and make niggas change their whole rhyme
I'm the Shocker, yeah, I got them
It's Tru motherfuckers, and y'all can't stop us and it's on
I told y'all it's about to be on, nigga
We drop shit anytime we want to huh
Fell this nigga, it's real
Flippin' the the game niggas that got that 'cane
Murder Mr. Dopeman still in the rap game
It's 1997, my niggas gone to heaven
Rest in peace 2Pac from Master P, doin' 2-11s
187 Khadafi, murder puttin' niggas
In six foot motherfuckin' gurters
If you fuck with this Tru clique
Nigga you gettin' your wig spilt
Who run this gangster rap?
(No Limit runnin' this)
It's 'bout to be it, 187 Khadafi
Jumpin' on ghetto dope with these gangster topics
Still makin' scrilla your neighborhood drug dealer
Ice cream slaingin' tattooed up real nigga
In the rap game pushin' quarters
Flippin' the water, from Texas to Florida
Choppin' game to the knuckleheads
And spittin' voodoo on the motherfuckin' chicken heads
Down south hustlin', to the west coast
Got nigga choppin' game, I mean this rap shit in to dope
Puttin' them in packages, independent spittin' shit
Standing on stages with bullet-proof vests, lookin' for other cliques
But who gon' be the next nigga to die in this rap game
Or drop a hit on the wrong man?
'Cause they talkin' shit about other niggas
Now it's a war zone, in this rap game
But they can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
They can't stop us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, they'll be a million other niggas in line
With ghetto dope, bustin' ghetto rhymes y'all
Running from the one time not mines
Posted up, hostin' up like soldiers
Down south huster, throwin' boulders
Ready to block like a football player
Got these 17 rounds for y'all haters
So jump on this ghetto shit and come get this wicked shit
And jump up on this rap game and watch a nigga spit
Killer, murder topics put my goals if y'all think y'all can stop it
Hardcore bangin', hangin' slaingin'
Nigga down for whatever that's why we bangin' on wax
Into traps, got Beats by the Pound like niggas slaingin' sacks
In the 'hood, up to no good, got niggas 'bout it
From Baton Rouge to St. Louis to Cincinnati
Got niggas lined up in Atlanta like addicts
Gotta have this gangster shit, this real shit
From this motherfuckin' Tru clique, ain't givin' up, living raw
And if we die, fuck it, sell my 'dro to the next gangster nigga
Rest in peace Easy-E., but I'm out here makin' scrilla
So fuck y'all white laws and y'all motherfuckin' police cars
Comin' through with gangsters
And killers long live the motherfuckin' drug dealer
'97 to 2000 A.D. little kids wanna be me 'cause I'm 'bout it, I'm rowdy
The government and the press, them motherfuckers want me out
For runnin' my own shit, niggas sellin' their company
Like the slaves sold their souls to 30 cents break bread
Don't you know 15 percent of what you made?
You a sucker, a clucker, so stop rappin' hardcore
You hip-hop motherfuckers and stay true to the gizzame
Be about your paper, nigga fuck the fizzame third ward nigga
Runnin' the hill it ain't no limit to this gangster shit
Blunt smokes and keepin' it real
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
Y'all can't stop us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, they'll be a million more Tru niggas
Bitch it be Slikk choppin' and kickin' shit like karate
Fast like a Mazzeroti, crime boss like John Gotti
Look into their face, niggas afraid of me
Look deeper into their eyes, they scared
Yeah y'all busters scared of me
'Cause I flow like water run shit like Ki-Jana Carter
Tell 'em, I'ma be there watch [Incomprehensible] like the French Quarter
Down for whatever bow down nigga never
Buck like a Beretta wet you up like bad weather
Got fangs like a cobra now I got Range like a Rover
You don't fuck with us whether you fucked up like a hangover
From the city where busters lie from the city where suckers die
Make way for P and Silkk, two of the baddest motherfuckers alive
Bitch it's your time, bitch I want the whole nine
Bust one line, and make niggas change their whole rhyme
I'm the Shocker, yeah, I got them
It's Tru motherfuckers, and y'all can't stop us and it's on
Ostatní interpreti