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n europe and america, theres a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the soviets
Mr. krushchev said we will bury you
I dont subscribe to this point of view
It would be such an ignorant thing to do
If the russians love their children too
How can I save my little boy from oppenheimers deadly toy
There is no monopoly in common sense
On either side of the political fence
We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the russians love their children too
There is no historical precedent
To put the words in the mouth of the president
Theres no such thing as a winnable war
Its a lie that we dont believe anymore
Mr. reagan says we will protect you
I dont subscribe to this point of view
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the russians love their children too
We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
What might save us, me, and you
Is that the russians love their children too
In un sistema finito, con un tempo infinito, ogni combinazione può ripetersi infinite volte. ma_75@bodyweb.com
Something kind of hit me today
I looked at you and wondered if you saw things my way
People will hold us to blame
It hit me today, it hit me today
We’re taking it hard all the time
Why don’t we pass it by?
Just reply, you’ve changed your mind
We’re fighting with the eyes of the blind
Taking it hard, taking it hard
Yet now
We feel that we are papers, choking on you nightly
They tell me "Son, we want you, be elusive, but don’t walk far"
For we’re breaking in the new boys, deceive your next of kin
For you’re dancing where the dogs decay, defecating ecstasy
You’re just an ally of the leecher
Locator for the virgin King, but I love you in your fuck-me pumps
And your nimble dress that trails
Oh, dress yourself, my urchin one, for I hear them on the rails
Because of all we’ve seen, because of all we’ve said
We are the dead
One thing kind of touched me today
I looked at you and counted all the times we had laid
Pressing our love through the night
Knowing it’s right, knowing it’s right
Now I’m hoping some one will care
Living on the breath of a hope to be shared
Trusting on the sons of our love
That someone will care, someone will care
But now
We’re today’s scrambled creatures, locked in tomorrow’s double feature
Heaven’s on the pillow, its silence competes with hell
It’s a twenty-four hour service, guaranteed to make you tell
And the streets are full of press men
Bent on getting hung and buried
And the legendary curtains are drawn ‘round Baby Bankrupt
Who sucks you while you’re sleeping
It’s the theater of financiers
Count them, fifty ‘round a table
White and dressed to kill
Oh caress yourself, my juicy
For my hands have all but withered
Oh dress yourself my urchin one, for I hear them on the stairs
Because of all we’ve seen, because of all we’ve said
Tupac]
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch
You're fat motherfucker {Take Money}
West Side
Bad Boy Killers {Take Money}
You know who the realist is
niggas we bring it to {Take Money}
(ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for your jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
fuck with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, see
[Chorus:]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
Who shot me,
But your punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you
bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
{ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up}
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting up traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of you
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of you nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Shermine
niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Mother-fucker I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Copin' pleas with these
Little Kim is you
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fuck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You're a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker
So fill the Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're fucking with me, nigga?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
fuck you and your mother fucking mama.
We're gonna kill all you mother fuckers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fucking opinion
Well this is how we gonna' do this:
fuck Mobb Deep,
fuck Biggie,
fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fucking crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then fuck you too.
Chino XL, fuck you too.
All you mother fuckers,
fuck you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers,
fuck you, die slow motherfucker.
My four four (.44 magnum) make sure all your kids don't grow.
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us.
We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California, nigga
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother fuckers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothing but killers
And the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us.
Our shit goes triple and four quadruple
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckin' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it
We the realist
fuck 'em.
We Bad Boy killers.
In un sistema finito, con un tempo infinito, ogni combinazione può ripetersi infinite volte. ma_75@bodyweb.com
Ma, sei il mio idolo..la mia infanzia vive di Tupac, e hai scelto, per rappresentarlo, la canzone che avrei scelto io. NUMBER ONE per il suo genere, senza se, senza ma.
sigpic Amanti della carne..
"La sconfitta è un'eleganza, per l'ipocrisia di chi si arrende in partenza..."
Ma, sei il mio idolo..la mia infanzia vive di Tupac, e hai scelto, per rappresentarlo, la canzone che avrei scelto io. NUMBER ONE per il suo genere, senza se, senza ma.
Ti ringrazio. Un uomo che ha vissuto costantemente la sua vita pericolosamente, fino alla fine. Leggendole in questo modo le sue canzoni sono sincere fino all'ultima virgola, non come tanta robaccia dei vari imitatori successivi.
In un sistema finito, con un tempo infinito, ogni combinazione può ripetersi infinite volte. ma_75@bodyweb.com
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