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Black & Yellow (HHW 13 Reloaded) ist ein Lied von Crooked I, dessen Text unzählige Suchanfragen hat, deshalb haben wir entschieden, dass es seinen Platz auf dieser Webseite verdient, zusammen mit vielen anderen Liedtexten, die Internetnutzer kennenlernen möchten.
The Westcoast ain't the same without me
Cause I'm packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
This how we do it in the LBC
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Zoop zoop this is COB
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Turn it up let it vibrate the streets
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
I'm from the hood where Grandparents are 35
I don't bang, I hustle but still I'm certified
Last nigga who shot I heard he died
Cause my address is 187 East Murder Drive
All the pain in the my past I gotta verbalize
It can't stay on my head, I gotta circumcise
My tears drop on the song, they don't prefer the eyes
A chick left me for that but that was her demise
Money cars and jewelry that shit had her astounded
She searched for the essence of me and bounced when she found it
I'm a complex figure, I'm a never ignorant, getting goals accomplished
Grew up in a lot of projects, Lochness hotness nigga
On a conquest to digest liquor
In a contest to progress quicker
Than any in 2011, by making my thought process sicker
Bigger, stronger, faster
Homie tell me is it a fact
Through negative you can make yourself a prisoner
If so I call them thoughts an unwelcome visitor
Music is therapeutic, I'm a get help from listeners
I told you I'm so grow up I don't need therapy right
America's nightmare carries a mic
And I stay far away from snake fake character types
I vow to never fuck with you like I married a dyke
Keep it real when I make a joint
Streets tried to break me, couldn't find my breaking point
The other night I had a dream
I seen God he was a beam of light
His physical form was human being like
He gave me a couple of warnings in order for me to keep my life
Can't tell you what but I cna say that he was right
I dream 16′s homie I don't need to write
Pick up a pen in oyur session, I'm just trying to be polite
Cover my genius up cause rappers are envious
When I say I finished my verse they like "is he serious"
5 minute lyricist with an emphasis on a structure
Plus the details I describe in the sentances
Mind you my timing better be live from the Genesis
I bet metaphors and one liners are limitless
First I'm on the West on some [?]
Then the spit will be in Italy in a Gondola on some Venice shit
Bars beyond bars has it's benefits
I'm Favre, busted chin, fractured ankle,
I don't know when to quit (never)
And old rappers when see me, don't say hi
They call me 'cause I'm fucking with Shady
I say okay bye
[Chorus: x2]
The Westcoast ain't the same without me
Cause I'm packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
This how we do it in the LBC
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Zoop zoop this is COB
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Turn it up let it vibrate the streets
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
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