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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » F » Freddie Foxxx
Bumpy Bring it Home - текст песни

Bumpy Bring it Home

Ayo, turn the, turn the music up some more

In the headphones for me

Check it out [c'mon!]

You ready, it's Bumpy Knuckles baby

Sendin this out to my niggas

All them hardcore street corner, wilders

Ha, ha, Freddie Foxxx baby

That's right, Diamond D baby

[Verse 1]

Whoever thought that I'd be Mr. lyrical flows nice

Like sunsets on the Rio Grande

Grantin after sisters checkin out they can can

My lyrical ability keeps them real niggas

That listen to hip hop feelin me

I keep it underground, sound's a buck China

Even in Japan they know, I'm the ultimate

Spit at me verse, like it's my last one

Slow ones, fast ones, I blast past the fake ass ones

You see, I don't think no nigga's nicer than me

I'm not conceited, that's how I read it, these niggas heated

I dissect your verses like science class frogs

I see your rap records is swine, like hogs

Now cipher, that's like turnin down Janet for Michelle Pfeiffer

See Freddie Foxxx aint wit that

My shit is hotter than cayenne pepper, the mic wrecker

The lethal weapon, I keep you high steppin

It's not my fault that niggas listen to me

And wanna rob shit, cuz I do my motherfuckin job kid

If you a thug then you recognize what you see before you

Eyes and ears said Freddie Foxxx is here

I been waitin it, doin it, sayin it

Rollin by my motherfuckin self with my burner cocked slayin it

And I aint seen nothing that could make me believe

There's a nigga rappin liver than me, you feel me

HOOK 2X: Billy Danze

You in a class of your own, Bumpy's in the zone

Leave Bumpy alone! Bumpy get it on

Bumpy spit chrome, Bumpy hold a throne

Now, Bumpy bring it home!

[Verse 2]

I wear Rolex watches and alligator shoes

Where niggas thought devil jeans was the big news

I had fifty miles on my brand new Benz in '89

When you wanted me to critique your rhyme

It just was all right

Niggas brought rappers to me, for approval

Now I give you sixteen bars, for removal

I punch you in your temple make you stagger like Yeltsin

Over hand right to the brain is what you felt son

Then I take off my belt son

Show you what a whippin is, what a true real mic rippin is

You fake niggas can't make it hard for real niggas cuz

There's no defense for the truth so what the deal nigga

No matter who tell it, real niggas always prevail

Just like a fake nigga always fail

Niggas livin in a fairy tale, until they get beef

Then he want peace, bitch, you just a rap pussy

You comin just a lyrical lunatic

I make it blacker than midnight at 12 O'Clock noon and shit

I keep rollin like the black Navi with them Micky Thompsons

Halogen lights, I keep my flow tight

The new Bumpy shit is like the new Jordans when they come out

Got emcees rappin wit they gun out

Memorize lyrics and I spit 'em to the needy

Send love to my nigga Tweety, and can you feel me


[Verse 3]

I treat 'em like real stick up kids is the dark alley

What's Slick Rick, it's the ballies

With played out New York niggas it's TiCali

Runnin from the ill shit

I do what record labels don't like, the real shit

Money is energy, I'm hyped up

Step on stage with that bullshit, get hair wiped up

I be up in your crib, with my two black sigs in your ribs

Takin everything you got to give

The black Robin Hood I rock for niggas that can't afford rolies

Ride around and in tagged up stolies

I keep the truth like the Holy Qu'ran

Here's a game plan, ambush, best attack, hit off my man

I make you niggas listen to some lyrical shit

Some miracle shit, some empirical shit

Now I'm in flipmode, I got my gun in your brain

And make you run you ch ch ch cha ch ch ch cha chain

Bumpy plays no games, it's all real here

Can't get my gun in the club, I keep it real near

I'm harder than a bulletproof vest wrapped around a steel pole

Six shots all through your body like real soul

James Brown or the Meters

I'm gunnin for you no talent rap style eaters

When Diamond D blessed me I had to come rugged

Or unplug it, only true thugs can fuck shit


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