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    Kool G Rap & Dj Polo

    Letters

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    Добавлена 20 февраля 2008 пользователем AND1

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    Текст песни Letters
    Текст песни Letters
    "What are you going to do?" (2X)
    "Nigga!"
    "The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters"
    "My mic sound nice, check one"
    "The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters"
    "Sound nice" (cut and scratched)
    [Kool G. Rap]
    Rougher than Gotti, in tone
    Got a body harder than Flintstone
    Your girl got her skins boned
    I'm diggin her down with my skintone
    It's Brown-er than Bobby cause humpin is my hobby
    Down in the end zone, with mens, that made her friends moan
    Listen and learn and turn on your tuners if he looney
    ? ? I break, bang zoom, like Honeymooners
    I don't want singers, but finger snappers, speaker slappers
    The wickeder rapper the dapper rapper's when I flap my trapper
    Got that ass gassed by Amoco, you know you ain't man to go
    dead up, head up, so I set up to slam a hoe
    I don't give a heck, but I don't peck on a redneck
    You wanna pull cards, you're a dead deck, bed check
    Lead my from tec, come and step up and get your head red
    Wait a sec, you comin to see what's left?
    I gotta catch my breath, rappers slayed
    or played like Jeff to the left
    And none of you nitwits can get with this hit shit
    You dipstics, even Miss kiss, but no lipstick
    I don't run a style but a mile to bust a child
    Big ol snappy happy rappers smile like Gomer Pyle
    Hell, I'm ringin bells with a ding-dong
    I play you like ping-pong
    You swingin on my ding-a-long King Kong
    I pop bad cops, I got a pig a day habit
    Bing bing BANG, just like the ricochet rapid
    Grab it, your sound is just like a lady baby, maybe
    you're old as Grady, still in the 80's, metaphors born in Haiti
    I pop to the top, now the hip-hop glock pop rocks
    Whenever it drops, I run over rappers at the record shop
    You name your best I'll say, who, like owls
    Pass me a towel, and I'ma move my bowels all over his vowels
    Bring ten men, then I'll send my venom in em
    You ain't gonna win em cause he got a women's momentum
    And I don't wanna hear from this queer
    Cause one of these niggaz just doesn't belong here
    My rhymes are like the nine millimeter Beretta
    Cause anything rappers could do yo I could do it better
    "The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters"
    "My mic sound nice, check two"
    "The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters"
    "sound nice" (cut and scratched)
    You no-frill slow toy, cheap thrills, no joy
    My lyrical skills give me Pillsbury Doughboy
    Back, I'm packin em up like Jack the Ripper
    Some pally'll I'm pullin the zipper
    Finger popped, the better the batter or flipper
    You're out of date, you must be the Late Show, I hate those
    puttin on the brakes slow, uh-oh, better get Maaco
    Dead-on, head-on collision, bad decision
    You wanna see me nigga you better check your vision
    It ain't 20/20 money silly bunny your funny
    Your ass'll get smashed just like a crash test dummy
    Retire, an MC that Oscar Meyer could take
    Some of you wacky rappers just play anyway
    that's B-O-L-O-G-N-A
    So come and swing wild, mild child, and get your style hurt
    HEY HEY HEY! Should I say it's Fatter than Albert
    Play at your own risk, if you diss, got a lotta hot groups
    turnin cold, better go and sip on some Swiss Miss
    Inner city, actin like bitties, you're pussy
    so here kitty kitty, come get some milk from my hoe's titties
    Cross at the green not in between or get hit G
    Red light, green light, one two three
    Out for the dash, but in the flash, you shoulda let me pass
    'fore crash, now that ass is in a bodycast
    Everytime I put out my records and tapes
    Motherfuckers go bananas like this was Planet of the Apes
    Grapes I bust em like cherries and lay down, bitches purchase tickets
    to ride the dick and sit down it like a Greyhound
    Down with the clowns actin like killers, as good as wooden soldiers
    See niggaz, you ain't even Magilla Guerillas
    Bass in your face, stingin like mace
    I'm bringin the right taste, hangin like waist
    Pick up the pace
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