Onyx - Brigin' Bac Da Madface (Feat. Annakin Slayd) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Onyx
• Brigin' Bac Da Madface (Feat. Annakin Slayd)

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We throwin' 'em up like hardcore
Bup bup bup bup bup!
Like we back in '94
Bup, bup, bup bup bup!
It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days
Bup, bup, bup bup bup!
Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface!

Fedro Starr
Breakin' (expletive) for slot times
This for you cowards that drop dimes
I'm posted on the block like stop signs
How could you stop crime? when Onyx in this (expletive) and we pop nines
Boy got hot lines like phone numbers for runaways
Beef like Faye you get Dunaway
When I see my B, only time I put (expletive) away
Play (expletive) for fun, at least one a day
Shots in your Teflon, bullet proof vest on
I feel seventeen again like Zac Efron
100 Mad click like Cope you get stepped on
Battle me your new website or be deaf calm
I hold your kids for ransom. Throw up your Hand
This is the thug anthem
This is the thug anthem
This is the thug anthem
Throw up your hand, this the thug anthem

chrous x2

Annakin Slayd
What's the matter with my brain, it's insane
Starr, Stick and Slayd, going back to golden days
When the class bell sounds, time to bring hell around,
Bustin' Bald heads way before Britney had her melt down
Hoodies and black bomb jacks, White Sox caps
The smarter you talked back, the harder the smack
Drop "Slam", the jam turns to an all out brawl
So I toss my best friend through a gyp rock wall
When Hip Hop falls, you'll find me lying in a hearse
Screaming I'm not watered down so I'm dying of thirst
Belly flop off a roof before I stop hawking truth
I'd rather Sticky blow my (expletive) head off in this booth
I blast truth, through wack dudes and dance crews
These hack youths, jack thirty years of classic rap tunes
100 Mad true and I ain't got no gat, dude
But Dro said he'd get me a (expletive) if he had to

chrous x2

Sticky Fingaz
In the back streets, we stash heat in the back seat of the black jeep
Splash beef, half sleep, high off (expletive) since last week
Word Comanche, that chick is transported out of state on they ass cheek
I'm nasty. Got enough heart to blast me?
React rashly while police harrass
A trash heap is where they find your head if you crab me
Three shots from the navvy? You defy the law of gravity
My strategy? Front on Stick and get hit automatically
Agony! Agony! Hate my Moms for having me
I know a lotta (expletive) wanna walk up on me And casually
Gradually, put the (expletive) to my head and ratatata me
I never snitch. You can beat the (expletive) out of me
And when I die what a cold day in hell that'll be
Sticky Fingaz mother (expletive)
100 Mad. Sticky Fingaz mother (expletive)

chrous x2