Big L - American Dream (Ft. Bloodshed, Cam'ron, Mase & McGruff) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Big L
• American Dream (Ft. Bloodshed, Cam'ron, Mase & McGruff)

[Verse 1 - McGruff]
Crooked corrupted criminal crime boss with cream
Cocaine hustler, blowing out the brains of busters
Be in my mansion chillin', inhalin' the ganja smoke
Counting mad cream, weighin' tons of coke
Guarded by thugs and Rottweilers
I flood the streets with drugs and clock dollars
Niggas get plugged when my Glock hollers
Skunk smokers, Philly and Owl ripper
Cristal sipper, I've been a willy for a while nigga
'Gruff got hoes, the man with all the nachos
Expensive hot clothes, drop top Rolls
East coast, West coast, fiends overdose
'Gruff get the cream with my team and I'm ghost

[Verse 2 - Ma$e]
This money be temptin' me, to jump out the MPV
Empty three clips of hollow tips with no sympathy
Since 14, I sold morphine for more green
Kept open a Nautica coat under the drawsting
And watched out for cops, squad cars, and Beemers
And laundry ninas, flee the country to Argentina
Laid back in the beach (yeah) coastin' with commuters
Smokin' the buddahs on the cruiseline boat to Aruba
For a while, yo; pump the vowel so I can pile dough
Then become a Harlem kingpin just like Alpo'
Get paid so I can lay low in San Diego
With yayo so I can ship it out whenever I say so

[Hook]
Yo! Makin' this money is the American Dream
East Coast to West Coast, you know what I mean
Whether it's Uptown, Downtown; you pick the scene
You gots to get your own scheme
We ain't splittin' this cream

[Verse 3 - Cam'ron]
Yo! I'mma run hystrically, till they bury me
Count numerically,hills of Beverly
More grands than cherokee; president like Eric B., and Rakim
Drug game, I'm top ten; locked in? Right now its not an option
And those who creep got the Mac in the heat
They got the five-inch screens in the back of the seat
And now they got this daddy raggin'
Last year, had me saggin', wasn't ready
When Heavy was back, tossed me in the paddywagon
But ain't nobody out here stoppin' love
Cause we was twelve years old in the Cotton Club, poppin' bub'
So all the fame without the fortune; goddamn, you wrong
Killa kid Cam-e-ron surviving in the Amazon

[Verse 4 - BloodShed]
Yo! I leave you dazed and froze
With all kinds of amazing flows
Money surrounded I counted
While bathing with Asian hoes
Back home niggas is after me
I'm back to sea, sippin' daquiris
Coke factory, fiends baggin' up crack for me
From cutting up rocks to investing in stocks
Nautica yachts, and knots busting outta my socks
Now that Bloods play the chub
All the ladies love me, they hate who made me hubby
Behind my back they say my baby's ugly
Each night I sleep, with freaks with Lamborghini jeeps
Neighbors be sneaking peeks, how my semen leaks, between the sheets
Mess up my loot, I cut your collars, Juan
Cause these is modern times, and the only thing I see is dollar signs

[Hook]

[Verse 5 - Big L]
Check it! To be seen clean in the mean Beam
Is every team's dream; Big L's a cream fiend
With more green than Springsteen
You know I'm crazy quick to smack a groupie
I'm known to mack a hoochie
Do I got stacks of lucci (Absolutely!)
Harlem kids is known for felonies
And sellin' keys, pushin 300Z's
GS3's, and puffin' trees
These G's breeze while DTs
Be yellin, 'freeze!', we stash cheese
And keep a pocket full of centuries
Ayo, I'm set for the rest of my life
Some clown that laid the threat cause I had sex with his wife
I stuck my tool to his brain, so that fool can get slain
Nigga, yo' bitch chose me, you know the rules to the game

[Hook]

[Outro]
Yea What? Harlem on the Rise
BloodShed, Killa Kam
Six Figures, Cee-O-Cee, Chuck Blassie
My Man man Mase, the Bad Boy
Uptown, McGruff
Big L, 139, NFL, 140

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