Текст песни
Yeah. Yo, what's up my nigga? It's the big homeboy Snoop Dogg, And you know the streets is a motherfucker. DPGC, You know, representin' to the fullest like that There. Ya know! Organized madness, madness, madness. The young Gotstra, haha. Young Frank Sinatra, bitch! I call, I call shots 'round here. Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here. Slow down down there. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. I call, I call, I call shots 'round here. Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here. Slow down down there. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. Psychosomatic, automatic static. Catatonic, supersonic, bubonic chronic addict. Astronomical in the Thunderdome center. In the depths of the dungeon, dangerous desperately. Catastrophes metamorphosize into a pit. Tyrannodyne crackin' the bricks on the walls. Camouflage on the side of the line. Shoppin' for somethin' up in the garage. It's time for World War III, motherfucker. You know me, young Got T, motherfucker. I holds the microphone like a grudge. In a 'lac, laid back, so back the fuck Up. This might give you a heart attack. It's real simple, can't get more simpler than that, Than that. I call, I call shots 'round here. Tell who pop and who not to pop 'round Here. Slow down down here. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. I call, call shots 'round here. Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here. Slow down down here. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. Tactical, acrobatical, automatic. Automatically psychosomatic, psychotic. Verbal narcotics, visually erotic, super like the Sonics. Vodka and gin and tonic being injected Through the veins. With double dosage of liquid Chronic. Colombian flavor, the top rate, Irate. Lost middle state style, and I want about A million or more. Of y'all fools to come Back and get some more. You can tell a gangster soon as he come In the door. He won't wear Calvin Klein, he Won't wear velour. He got some Cortez or some Converse on. All-Stars, G from the hat to the Floor. You can miss me, I'm probably chillin' up In Mississippi. Or Poughkeepsie or Baton Rouge Guzzling whiskey. I'm a walking franchise and I Wanna get paid. Get dropped, mocked, and stomped like a parade. Persuasion, phase three of the invasion. I gots to break loose 'cause I'm feelin' caged In. Loose in the jungle, blaze the botanical garden Up. Nowadays niggas ain't hard enough. To bombard and bogart spots like these. Renegade revolutionary infiltrates. I bet a thousand to one, you're never gonna Make it. You're never gonna get it, y'all can't Fuck with this. Put it together, Odd Squad, 1999 Mobb Squad. Universal soldiers under my toes. I I call shots 'round here. Tell to pop and who not to pop 'round Here. Slow down down here. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. I call, I call shots 'round here. Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here. Slow down down here. Don't make too much noise. You know who runs the blocks 'round here. I'm a jaw smasher, the youngest gangsta rapper. Spectacular, chrome.38 packer. Money stacker, T-shirt cackalacker. Rural predator, fake rap attacker. Gotti the jawbreaker, Rocco the back cracker. Money makers, we smart like computer hackers. I came in this game with plans to get It maxed My enemies feel the wrath of my Rapture. No escaping without instantaneous capture. Don't be upset when me and the homies jack You. 'Cause we straight jackin', if I say it's On, it's crackin'. Young Thugs from Y. A., We make it happen. Swear y'all can see me, But that's just like seein' Elvis. I grab the cricket bat and crack a nigga Cross the pelvis. My rhyme is dangerous, Hazardous to health. I make a nigga murder twenty Kids and cap his own self. Who am I? The incorrigible lyrical miracle. It's horrible, yet hysterical the way I'll embarrass You. See me on the streets walk by and I just stare at you. Tough talk when there's Bullets flyin' through the air at you. Test young Jess, nigga, one less nigga. Me and Kurupt share two Gats and one vest, Nigga. We astronomical, phenomenal, magical, Mathematical. Takin' your firstborn as collateral. I call, I call shots 'round here
Kurupt — I Call Shots
«I Call Shots» — Kurupt. Читайте текст песни и подпевайте с караоке-подсветкой: строки текста подсвечиваются в такт музыке. Слушайте онлайн бесплатно или скачайте mp3. Длительность записи — 4:24. Жанр — Рэп и хип-хоп.
