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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » J » JT Money
Alright - текст песни



Yo if you wanna go to war, its alright

Well if you ain't hardcore, its alright

You wanna get it on nigga, its alright

Its alright (its alright), It's alright (its alright) (x2)

(JT Money)

I got a problem with fuck niggas

Always talkin' shit and try to duck niggas

Sucker niggas won't finish what they started

Be coppin' dueces cause them niggas soft-hearted

They straight bitches

Always puttin' on shows for these niggas and hoes

Be wantin' to run your mouth but won't throw no blows

Ain't got no scrap, better kill that rap

Think life is a game, until that ass get tapped

And when it do, what you do, you run like a bitch

Or do you straight turn state on a nigga and snitch

When you ain't got your boys, you ain't got no balls

And you ain't gangsta with all them 911 calls

Real niggas don't call police

Real niggas handle theirs when they got beef

Flawed niggas talk shit and know they can't back it

Know they ain't real but always trying to act it


I'm the original jacker, flawed boy attacker

Taking your life ain't nothing but a factor

Matter of fact, I'm a killer straight out the slums

No time to dump, I got these pumps for you chumps

And I ain't talking bout' the reeboks

Getting three glocks and jumping out of treetops

Making suckers flee spots, and leave k Nots

Got guns, get funds, yeah I'm packing styles

Suckers acting foul, get smoked like Black and Milds

Nigga know a plan, laying down this thing

Beyond all that rap shit, I only spit game

You scared, say you scared, but just peep what I said

I'm so wicked off the head, probably shoot out of dread

Thats right, all you suckers better recognize

Before I start recognizing, ain't gonna have you niggas sweatin' mine

I'm in this thang for real, ain't nothing fake here

Putting down in the zone with my nigga Shakespeare


(Big Gipp)

I wear my hat low, when I walk through a circle of folks I don't know

It ain't to much chalk in these streets that can hold me back

I make stacks and stacks, for the weeks and weeks I got slapped

Freaks, I got the grill with the white gold

Keep a pistol in my hand with the tight hold

From the city where they drop blows

Known to pin-hold down off them figure fours

Shit shady, we all about to bust on sight, lighting up the night

Putting hoes off in 74's and watching em' all blow

It ain't shit funny, its the money man and Gipp

Holding sawed-off pumps in your face chump

Don't disrespect the city, streets, that I'm standing on

Niggas from Miami and Atlanta holdin' heat

It ain't nothing happy

You see, it ain't all about that rapping


(JT Money)

Straight up and down, I'm a let you fuck nigga know

You niggas don't want war, talking all that shit

Cause you apted up on that motherfucking tough guy juice

Get round' the motherfucking boys, listen to this goddamn rap music

And niggas think its a motherfucking game

Alright, play with it

Jt Money, Big Gipp, let you niggas know


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