Ones 4 da Money - текст песни
One's 4 da Money
(a.k.a a.k.a the rugged child) Microphone check one two one two yo Microphone check one two one two yo Microphone check one two one two yo Microphone check one two
Chorus (x2) One's for the money Two's for the show Three's for ya hooker But we all say HOE!
My slang and my gang bows up the concrete Like everybeing rocking Don't sweat the technics So you got beef Narrow sony go get ya posse Cause I've got a mosse, when you wear haratchies Then you hear me kicking as I own you, it's mad ruggie The jump on my tip, but I taught nuff to naw it Cause I let the microphone spark right after dark And be dropping mad skillz like my name was Pad Mark The rebel to society Everyone's trying me Loking at me strange leave dim raid it'll mase me Had I did something wrong go and my dumb Brothers keep stressing, no shorties the one To make it real snappy, and little nasty-nasty Things get pawsie-pawsie And of to be hax me It'll little gone and still can hold you on, on Microphone so keep licking on that wish bone You had you're chans but you feld out on tune, So you're hanging out with deuce, now you say that rock rues You make me laugh as you're mom's get smoke You get ain't like a taffy, and red like the chokes Flow with the flow from the Wu-tang free-style You catch yo bow-bow, And they're two's this wild, child From the Staten the Island, the temple Just an exemple how pop goes the pistole
Chorus (x2) One's for the money Two's for the show Three's for ya hooker But we all say, HOE!
Here comes the shortie with the tec twenty two But If you tell Im gonna blast you From the projects worst ghetto section
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