Songtext zu '10304' von House Gang Animalz

[intro: inspectah deck]
U.d.'s, yeah, yeah

[inspectah deck]
We grindin', down to the bone, my name grounded in stone
Admist the founders, we loungin' with chrome
And mix the finest, we down to this home
Hit the housin' or roam
Shinin' like a hundred thousand in stones
Move mountains with poems, got a jones for deniro
1-6-0, my zone, we throwin' elbows
The hoes bling, sure thing, we known kings
Only dime types, with minds right, we chose queens
5-0 sting, they want me thrown in the bing
Cuff me up, fuck me up, still your boy won't sing
Authentic like the u.s. mint
The hood hear me like when two techs spit
Seen me movin' in the blue s6
With some new red kicks, and a few ecst' hits
A ounce of purple and some wu head chicks
Make the planet rock like baambaata, the mad doctor
Bad momma slit that ass out the prada
Hit the jackpot, slots for grands in nevada
Pop a brawl like muhammed and george, and kid sha-sha

[donnie cash]
Since 12, i've been damn near grown, so i'm scared?
I'm gon' fuck niggas, cashmere knowin'
Past year, showin' gray hair, beards
I bares arm, lost fears in the modern day 'nam, my tears gone
Prepare, it's on, now that hibernation, street violation
Creep while you faking, study your card, niggas is fraud
Fuck that shakin out the don, i spit for a nation and spit it hard
These shots from abroad, they hit your car
It's war when the jails from the four, blow through the door
And hit your broad, i draw like an artists, hard target
Get the job, start to the finish, if i gotta die
Let it be, gettin' high off the spinach
Chase it down, h e double n y, with guinness
Dedicated street chemist, street image
Stick to heavy metals like a magnet
Rip automatics, spit rapid at your cabbage
Flip faggots backwards like a mattress
Drop bodies like a bad habit, it's cash, ya'll niggas
Will slug ya'll niggas, yeah

[la banga]
Yeah, yo, we can stay, back to back, while we handle these tracks
Or like when your raw, back to back, handlin' gats
The finest in guns, a submachine repeatin' it's claps
Prettiest sound, deliverin' rounds, destination
Layin' anyone down, coroners essemble your scraps
Burnin' them down, whose turn is it now, yours perhaps
This shit is a rap of riddles or mummy, like rubberbands on money
As the belt embrace the gun on my dungeries
I worry not, and look for a dealer to hit the block
If the rap game fail, the streets always got
Perserve you a spot, like what goes up, it must come down
Fuck if you accepted or not, knahimeman?
These raps stretch out like yao ming
Took block shots, whose blockin' your goal? it's la, me
It's hot, always rollin' that la-la-la-la green
That la-la-la-la green, that la-la-la-la green

[king just]
It'll only take ten to destroy you and your men
Mr. tokeback, strokes, ain't a joke to the end
Who can swim low and sky dive high, against mine
In my prime, optimus shine, the booth be the bottom line
Fine as wine, get to the point like a porcupine
Throwin' gang signs, slittin' dimes in my spare time
Crime doesn't pay, as far as they say
Shit, let me tell it, i got pain every day
Which way the mix d.j., he play what i play
Most rappers can't rap, so they say what i say
How you gonna lie and try to deny
It's the art of dart throwing...