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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » K » Killarmy
Dancing With Wolves - текст песни



Dancing With Wolves


(feat. Prodical)



[eerie winds blowing]

[howling wolves]



[Beretta 9]

Aiyyo

Summer ride show down, it's about to go down

Beretta 9 creapin through the fold, nigga, one round

Bloodhound, no sound, check out how I get down

One knee aimin for yo' headpiece, lay down

This is not a playground, did you in, a tre-pound

I'm so loud that y'all niggaz throw a pound

So it's a must that I explain her

Don't want no dog's retainer

Forever will I shine and remain a.. a.. a..

Champ without a warnin, I cherish every moment

I shoot like if I'm on my last

Yo check it out how I blast

My subjects went out and got bought

Take a circle breast shot, took us to the rooftop.. top..

Don't play my next onslaught, this is how a wolf fought

You could get a get-got, Gods watched the hill top

Nigga check the red dot, fakin off yo' Dodge parked

All you heard was yo' heart stop, my nigga



[Islord]

Yo, check the topic to this essay

It's murder in the first, ese?

As I bust a slug through yo' fragile statue

But that's actual, precise timed and on point like a marksman

Four-four, rubber grip, Summer of Sam specialist

Take this four-hunded grain thought that'll pierce ya cranium

From the rear, I don't give a fuck, this is my year

I'm takin this rap shit back from the wack

Fuck who you are kid, fuck where you representin

And after, basically my mentality is on some '93 shit

When you had to Protect Ya Neck in this shit

To be an MC, now it's al about the tight clothes

Crossover flows, platinum jewelery to get a plaque in the industry

But never the I-S-L-O-R-D, I keep my shit muddy

Stay gummy, ya fake ass gangstas



[Chorus: Prodical]

Aiyyo

We still comin, stay gunnin, stay sunnin

Shine top of the 4th hit, we run shit

Classic black matches, Killarm', ice charm

In the black Yukon, you fuckin bastard

Still comin, stay gunnin, stay sunnin

Shine top of the 4th hit, we run shit

Classic black matches, Killarm', ice charm

In the black Yukon, you fuckin bastard



[P.R. Terrorist]

Call me the rebel, bust thirty-three shots at the Devil

Tell 'im I love 'im just because I made 'im

Plus there ain't no way to escape him

On the fire escape with the narocotic from the one-two-oh

Station, I'm impatient, my firearm driftin with starvation

Divine mind, I Power Rule, United Nation

My DJ's spinnin the latest from the out the crates and

Killarm's rockin the stage like a brigade and

My own congress, government rocket launchers shit

Strikin on ya Five Consciouses

NARCes men didn't know I put the toxic in

Til they got burnt by the scorpion (Uh-huh)

I spit lyrics that's like bad for ya health

I'd blow gun powder right off of he shelf

My brain power cause a rain shower

Restrain cowards, pull out to the heat and flame at ours



[9th Prince]

Aiyyo

A Soviet deep in Paris, Playboy rabbits want carrots

Luxury marriage, life, ain't havin it

I keep the forty-five automatic like Mathematics

Start terminatin savages, I'm raw like 'caine to easy addicts

Street tactics, layin down the caskets

On biblical war, perform Michael Jackson Thriller but way iller

A slave killer, protected by Shaolin and Brooklyn Zu guerillas

Under my pillow, I sleep with grenades, untraceable heaters

Stay deeper than scientific readers

My cipher sounds will ding pound, I blast you on ya nightgown

Kidnap ya child, might give him to the crowd

On my way Uptown in my '95 Millenium

Seen Killa Sin and 'em, that nigga sound feminine

Remember 9th Prince, I'll forever get up in 'em



[Killa Sin]

Killa loco, vocals hold you hostage

Gothic, size out live shit, catch a wise quick, focus

We stone fist explosive, load 'em like fo'-fifths

To roast clicks, ferocious as ro-bitch, with no cinch

My thoughts so dense they form mist

I swarm quicker than norm, my Bee stingers stay dipped in corn liquor

Warn niggaz from the last time, my past time hobby be

Robbin niggaz in they lobby, G, come out ya Wallabees

Fifty-six penny-weight chain limit the policy

Modernize crime comodity, now let us get what?



[Chorus x2]



[Unknown Singer]

We got fire.. hot.. burnin hot

We got fire... from The Sun

Still gon' win from the streets cuz there's no smoke with no heat

Still gon' win from the streets cuz we ain't go no heat

We got fire... from The Sun



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