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Dizzee Rascal
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Where's Da G's
作詞:Chad L. Butler, Bernard Freeman, Dylan Kwabena Mills
Dirty stank, yeah man I know that you think you're foolin' But you ain't foolin' me, man I don't give a shit man, I'm out here man Wherever you want man Sweat or fuckin' blood, man
Liar, liar, pants on fire You're not gangsta, you're not street You just make yourself sound gangsta When you're rappin' on the beat
You ain't got yourself in no Life threatenin' situations yet You're no dealer, you're not ballin' You just get yourself in debt
You're a fan of hip hop, wankin' When you hear them rappers talk Love to sit and listen But we know that you don't walk the walk
What's with all the fake aggression I can see that it's not true I know killers, I know gangsters And they never heard of you
You ain't robbed nobody, shanked nobody You ain't bust no gun You ain't seen no ghetto action Who do you think you foolin', son?
You should pull your trousers up You know it ain't your type of look You're no playa, you're no pimp I think that you should read a book
And seckle Find yourself a pretty girl and settle You know that if it's on That you ain't drawin' for no metal
I know them rap songs got you thinkin' You're some kind of G Well if that's the case, then que sera And what will be will be, boy
Where's the G's? Where's the stars? Where's the whips? Where's the cars? Where's that cribs and where's the yards? 'Cause all I see is hype
Where's the dough? Where's the cash? Where's the hoes? Where's the gash? Where's the blicks and where's the mash? 'Cause all I see is hype
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I hear is dead hooks on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I see is bare poop on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
Well it's big Bun B and I'm back again Talkin' that shit on the track again Too many motherfuckers be lyin' about Sellin', buyin' and traffickin'
I'm like, really though what's happenin' You boys talk about that crack again? 'Cause we don't believe you, need more people Y'all might as well just pack it in
Show me the paper you're stackin' in Show me the blocks you got on hold Show me your workers, show me your shooters Lemme see the neighborhood you control
Lemme see if you a boss And if motherfuckers is scared of you And if somebody tryin' to take your shit Let me see what you prepared to do
Are you ready to go to war? Are you ready to shoot to kill? Are you really gon' man-up or bitch-up? Just tell the truth for real
Are you ready to take a life 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 Walk up to 'em and squeeze the trigger I don't think so â€~cause you ain't built like that So just be easy, nigga
'Cause you know, you ain't 'bout no drama And you know that you really don't want it So stay the fuck out of the way When them trill-ass niggas is on it
Dizzee Ras and UGK You know we stay connected Trill recognize trill, so just respect it And check it and tell me
Where's the G's? Where's the stars? Where's the whips? Where's the cars? Where's that cribs and where's the yards? 'Cause all I see is hype
Where's the dough? Where's the cash? Where's the hoes? Where's the gash? Where's the blicks and where's the mash? 'Cause all I see is hype
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I hear is dead hooks on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I see is bare poop on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
Where the Benz and where the hoes? Candy niggas with candy clothes Where the cocaine, where the o's? Where the SoundScan, where the shows?
You's a pimp, bitch, where the track? Where the diamonds and where the Lac You say that you in hot pursuit But I ain't never seen you with a prostitute
I got everythin' I say Don't believe me, ask Lil' J On the West ask Ice-T Fuck good but my dick ain't free
So hood, I used to whip the D Patron and wood when I'm in the B Sweet Jones, Tony Snow, Percy Mack, Pimp C Bitch, I got a bunch of names
Gettin' head in the H.O.V. lane Gettin' red, I let my nuts hang Wear a lot of red but it ain't no gang Chased by the Feds but it ain't no thang
I guess they think I still sell cocaine 92 carrots in my chain Jumpin' out a red-candy thin'
Never snitch, never tell Get caught up, go back to jail Before I tell them hoes shit Fuck the law, they can eat my dick
The main niggas that pop the trunk Go to the pen and get with them punks Then come home tryin' to act tough When they was up there gettin' fucked in the butt
Where's the G's? Where's the stars? Where's the whips? Where's the cars? Where's that cribs and where's the yards? 'Cause all I see is hype
Where's the dough? Where's the cash? Where's the hoes? Where's the gash? Where's the blicks and where's the mash? 'Cause all I see is hype
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I hear is dead hooks on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
Too many moots on the TV How many real crooks on the TV? All I see is bare poop on the TV Bein' real these days ain't easy
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