Gang StarrBattle — текст песни (Soundtrack)

{*scratched: what? you wanna battle me? *}

{*scratched: yo man, how much money you got? *}

{*scratched: what? you wanna battle me? *}

{*scratched: yo man, how much money you got? *}



[guru]

I used to guzzle 40s, and own a beat up caddy

Since the hood still love me, Ill turn the heat up daddy

I went from mackin fly honies on the train

To straight relaxin on the beach, countin money gettin brain

Soon as you rappers get a chance you wanna floss a lot

You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot

Then you in the club, stylin with dough

Profilin with hoes that we boned, a while ago

You rookies havent done enough laps around the track

You had one hot single, but then your album sounds wack

Son you bore me with your war stories

You aint even do that shit, so thats just more stories

How you expect us to take you seriously?

The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me

Im blastin your sons, Im snatchin your funds

You catch a royal ass-whoopin, youve been askin for one



{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

what.. what? {*scratch: we thorough to the end*}

yo man.. you know the drill

{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

what.. what? {*scratch: you wanna battle me? *}

yo man.. how much money you got?



[guru]

Bitch you dont even know, the half about me

I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me

Im just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser

I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya

I can visit any city, get respect in the street

While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets

Ill take a second to speak, I keep my weapon in reach

I aint talkin romance but youll get swept off your feet

I keeps a ghetto chick, that loves to blast and she peddle shit

Groupies fake moves, I get her to settle shit

You cant compare to the status right here

Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here

Listen junior, ima tear back your wig

This aint tv but Ill show you what a fear factor is

Stop grillin me, and all that frontin is killin me

You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings g



{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

what.. what? {*scratch: you wanna battle me? *}

yo man.. how much money you got?

what.. what? {*scratch: we thorough to the end*}

yo man.. you know the drill

{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

{*scratch: we thorough to the end*}

{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around*}

you know the drill

{*scratch: we thorough to the end*}

{*scratched: im bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}

you know the drill