M4 - Rap Your City | Текст песни

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• M4
• Rap Your City

Rap yo city! Rap yo city! (Rap yo cityyyy!)
Rap yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rap yo cityyyy!)
Rap yo city! Rap yo city! (Rap yo cityyyy!)
Rap yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rap yo cityyyy!)

My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!

Cut loose motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the club motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the truck motherfucker, go bad go hard!
Throw it up motherfucker, go bad go hard!

Could it be the way that I be reppin (WHYYY!) for my niggaz?
Could it be the way that Petey Petey (RIIDE!) for my niggaz?
Showin niggaz love (love) raise up motherfucker!
You need to be reachin down pullin yo God-damn shirt up, that's love!

Wherever you live, wherever you from, wherever you call your home
Wherever you lay yo' God-damn Kangol down motherfucker!
Wherever you cheddar cheese, churn cream, lick that butter
Wherever yo' ass got lots of fat for all that God-damn trunk

Y'all niggaz don't understand the seriousness of what Petey be sayin
I took a unknown piece land (and planted) a God-damn flag!
Say I didn't (DID!) motherfucker I'd die for this
I done my God-damn thang, I brought my folks in this somma bitch

Hot Atlanta! The Bay Area!
Y'all niggaz don't want no noise (noise!) with Lil' Jon & The Eastside Boys
(Boys!) Y'all niggaz don't want no shit (shit) with E-40 & The Click
(The Click) And you can say whatchu want homeboy

Rep yo city! Rep yo city! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Rep yo city! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rep yo cityyyy!)

My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!

Cut loose motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the club motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the truck motherfucker, go bad go hard!
Throw it up motherfucker, go bad go hard!

(homeboy) I'll always be the one that ill!
From the land of the trill, where the vanity's real
And yo man'll be peeled or at least branded, God-damnit we ill
More horror than "Amityville", no sorrow; hand me the steel

Your tomorrow I can't even feel - oughta be plannin ya will
UGK ain't dropped in a while, but still we stoppin ya smile
Keepin boppers in file, standin on top of the pile
And you'll get popped with a smile, this ain't bout shoppin and style

This bout syrup and candy paint, you see us choppin for miles
Out the black and the 'Lac, swingers clap and if they take yo' flax
You'll get smacked for your packs, paper stacks and you'll crack-back yo' back
Hold up, they got game to sell ya, from drugs to paraphenalia
G

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