Du bist hier: Interpreten > F > Songtexte von Fabolous > Songtext: Bars R' Us
Bars R' Us

Kill one of them wise guys, you gotta kill a hundred
They just keep coming after you...
I done broke bread with some niggas, read from like every book
At the end of the day I'm still gon' be a petty crook
In the kitchen with bricks, Ran is a deadly cook
Got these fiends running through they lines like Reggie Bush
Your favorite rapper is dope but still very puss
Leave him in the woods, body parts in like every bush
That's how the dessi look, the world already shook
I'm running with Saddam and we gunning down every bush
I use to hustle scag now I'm in the cut with Fab

Trynna get a couple jags, money in a duffle bag
I never fuck with fags, make em all suffer bad
Slugs from that dirty shot gun that'll crush your abs
I got a bodega flow, it's sort of new
Spit like some barbecue seeds and a quarter juice
You just a soft excuse, see me in a flossy coupe
Thug motivation, I'll show you how to get off the stoop
You better call a truce
This ain't a basketball court but if you play with good D then I'm force to shoot
They use to call me brute, now I'm just awfully cute
Couple whips in the back, it's like I played a part roots
I gotta roll the dice. Got a heart cold as ice
You hearing these bars and you living through a solider's life
You got a piece of the pie, need to control the slice
Before I catch you slipping in your car like Obie Trice
Got a little money, little respect, even a little power earned
Since the day the first album turned and the towers burned
Now I'm letting sour burn, waiting 'til it's our turn
And I keep squeezing 'til them coward learn how it burn
When I'm behind the mic, you know it's thirty thou' I earn
And I might say some crazy shit like Howard Stern
I'm guilty for letting Gallardo horse power burn
Otherwise you can't judge me, the court's now adjourned
I'm slamming the gavel, Lambo to travel nigga
It fucks the streets up, damage the avenue nigga
The hammer will have you dancing like Hammer on gravel
And you know the pump-action of the gauge
I moonwalk 'em back like Michael Jackson on the stage
The niggas that do it will be a fraction of your age
I keep the toys washed, the boys harsh
I can get the boys squashed without crossing the George Wash
I do the twenty and? one take a guess
Rock one of Jacob's best, let the sun take a rest
Son make 'em stressed like the cops on him
Run up to your pops, warn him, while I got the drop on him
I'll put your seed in a bag, you know, popcorn him
Tell him you can't sell unless it's purple tops on them
I'll puts some guap on him and friend will maybe find him in a dumpster
Like they did Brenda's baby
I'm deeper than the North Atlantic, my bars done caused a panic
Every jail, up north, I ran it like a beast I dig in beats
Y'all know the kid? stretch a lot a?
It's a dirty game and we playing in the this bitch for keeps
I don't do shit discrete, cock sucker, this the streets
Two young guns with me and I don't mean Chris and Neef
Adrenaline junky, live for beef
If you don't your shit split, you getting pistol whipped until you missing teeth
And trust if we meet, everybody here deceased
You might as well die with them, you know you gon' miss your peeps
Check my resume, my background official, chief
It's fact, I kill all raps, you can ask Pistol Pete
5-k-1 killer, I don't just disown a snitch
Load the clips, blow the blitz, from long dis' blow a kiss
Even if you know you about to blow the 24 the?
Where I'm from you carry the load, you ain't suppose to bitch
That's why I watch who I'm around when I pose for flicks
And I don't talk none of my business around these nosey chicks
I control the strip, potent shit, my soliders pitch
I got what you need whether you pop, shoot, smoke or sniff
Everybody claims they sold it all from o's to bricks
But if you ask around the hood, they never even sold a nick
I hear these other clowns bragging about they blowin chips
But in the club they don't know the difference between Mo' and Cris
There's no rapper coming close to this
Nigga all I smoke is piff, it's pure fuego in every vocal spit
A hundred thou' rap both my wrists
These new comers talking about they run Brooklyn like me and Fab don't exist
You wanna hold something, hold my dick
You ain't gotta like me, I know your sick

(c) 2008 - 2014 Songtexte-kostenlos.com