J.R. Writer - Byrd Call (Feat. Lil Wayne & Cam'ron) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• J.R. Writer
• Byrd Call (Feat. Lil Wayne & Cam'ron)

Cam'ron (Spoken)

Yo J.R?, they've been waitin' for you
dog. they've been asking.
you ready? Dipset, Lets go! Writer

JR Writer (Chorus)

To all my hustlers, rock smugglers, stugglers
block bubblers, pushers, cookers pot jugglers
what's the word y'all, Flip that herb raw
Clap....... that's the bird-call

If the cops are comin, get to hop n runnin
Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin youngin
Put away that herb raw, let us know the word whore
Clap........That's the bird-call

JR Writer

I still be where the weed flip, and
the peas with the trees lit
so much water in the order, its
just leaving them sea sick
but its me in my V6, trying to skeet on her bead lips
they don't know, like I'm trying to keep her a secret
act wrong, chrome, passin me dome
next minute, shit I'm finished,
she'll be flaggin it home
but I always keep a straggler, that's known to bone
and run through a lap, faster than marion jones
man listen, I still got them grams flippin tan pitchen,
corner to the damn kitchen
gained a couple fans having made the transition
but I'm still in the hood like a transmission
no cat can match me, I'm passin
fastly who half as nasty
I got it locked from here, all the way to cak-a-lacky
but keep a mac for scrapping,
thinkin its just laffy taffy
shit this beat dun be the only thing clappin at me

Chorus

Lil' Wayne

SpokenYeah, I'm ready now)
Birdman Jr. and J.R pigeons know who they are
Niggas gotta pay off
Snitches know to see yall
If chickens on the radar, I'm at it
Cuz I get it on my day off, ain't
nuttin like getting weighed off
Scrape off the plates
Shake off the flakes
Dad daddy make all the kit kat
I gotta lay off the way ya'll
hate me like I'm adolf,
But ya'll can't see me, Ray Charles
Find more similar lyrics on steal whores
I'll probably take yours
because you peel off and I take off
Give me no space whatever I want I takes,
whatever I need I bleed and see
Bitch nigga don't breathe on the weed
I'm fucking with them birds
without feeding them seeds that's
creed you don't know about it,
full clip how I go about it, full body,
hard body, I'm like ya'll got it yet

Chorus

Cam'Ron

SpokenKilla, dash, hoffa, you funny nigga.)
Damn, Homie
In high school you was the man homie
that's what a fan told me shiiiit
same old cat, get his Kangol clapped
brains blown back, this is dame, but dame don't rap
shame on black, the game's so whack
dame sunk some children
from in front of yo buildin
straight to a hudred million
bad pimpin pimpin, bad actin doggyy
getcha limp on pimpin, if they actin froggy
tell em back up off me, I come down clappin forty
pow that's a badder story, not in my category
mess around, dame held def jam down
supporting my back, jackin and they left their pounds
red-neck found, tech tech pound
duck duck goose, pump pump shoot,
shoot lets get down
it may seem petty,
but we all turn mean deadly
for green-fetti,
my whole team ready

Chorus

JR Writer

this ain't only bars and tracks,
this is for the hardest cats
flippin all the harder back, make
them catch a heart attack
when you see the narcs attack lemme
know, start to clap, clap, clap
but start with he deals, your pa be on chill
the car is DeVille, is real ill
heart in the grill its far in my mills
Cruise the city with the semi or the celly
on skinnies like I'm starving my wheels

Chorus