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  • Текст песни DJ Clue F/ Memphis Bleek - Thugged Out Shit



    Geah, What?
    Niggas Bleek, Duro
    We live
    Thugged out
    Marcy, Smoked out
    Yeah

    Uh, yo, yo
    Im on now
    Therfore your ready rock
    Compare to this fishtale baggin rocks
    Now give me Bill Gates money
    A little strait money
    Big or small faces its been in all places
    I was schooled by them older guys
    They showed me how to drive these ???
    Chop dueces and old rubers
    Have a nigga rocked up then knocked up
    Plenty y'all wit his chest out gettin stocked up
    We trade war stories back on the streets
    When we played em messhall
    Niggas get'em on his eats
    Im a foul little nigga, wild little nigga
    Dedicated to these streets a pump valve little nigga
    You hear about my wherabouts?
    Bitches I don't care about
    Money Im a man about
    Drama Im a air it out
    Niggas hate Bleek cause I live right
    You'd love to see me broke frontin
    Wit no chips right?

    CHORUS: 2x
    Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit?(what)
    Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit?(geah)
    Who want to hear some real live type shit?(huh)
    Who want it wit that oh, chest out shit?(what)

    But this Bleek life my young niggas I tell ya
    I went from a failure, holdin paraphanalia
    Weight scales, twelve-twelves, dimes and fishtales
    Cooked up and bagged up
    My life was fucked up, but I looked at it this way
    If I dont make it this way, then im a do it this way
    Blaze my heat, while Im after them nickels
    Fuck six I chase nine fucken zeros
    Digits I got four of them, want five more of them
    Bitches when I told'em flies bring more of them
    I fuck'em never call'em,my dough must have spoiled em
    Nigga blew roll wit'em but now im ignoring them
    This street life kept Bleek tight with heat right
    On the ten-speed herbed up, nigga word up
    You saw me, but if not your man did
    I know I pull gats on y'all for crack shit
    Yeah uh-huh

    CHORUS:2x

    My niggaz roll dice in the back park
    We sip bacardi darked wit sprite all night
    Till the sky get bruised or thug nigga lose
    Pull out two-two's only catch two, hundred
    Half the crowd skated ?when? which you wanted
    This nigga got shaky and panic when you fronted
    When he saw the black kron
    I thought the nigga wore a thong
    The way he froze his arm
    Dukes said its on
    He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw
    Took off half ass when the nigga spit more
    And we all spit game you niggas ?heard free? game
    By soft motherfuckers, you lame mothefuckers
    I fall, I get back
    To test my worth
    I tell heads to hit that, its raw get rid of that
    My worker take thirty off a bundle
    Dodging the bikers, and'em D's
    When they rush the jungle
    So we stash in the fences
    Sit low on the benches
    Keep a small gun in case its on in the trenches
    Yo

    CHORUS:2x

    We live
    For the thugged niggas, Marcy
    What? We out