Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

소리


상호 작용


난이도


악센트



인터페이스 언어

ko

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
쿠키 정책   |   지원하다   |   FAQ
1
등록/로그인
Lyrkit

기부하다

5$

Lyrkit

기부하다

10$

Lyrkit

기부하다

20$

Lyrkit

그리고/또는 나를 사회적으로 지지해 주세요. 네트워크:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Lloyd Banks

The Cake (feat. 50 Cent & DJ Whoo Kid)

 

The Cake (feat. 50 Cent & DJ Whoo Kid)

(앨범: Mo Money In The Bank 4: Gang Green Season - 2006)


(Money, money, money, money, cake!)
I need the cake nigga!

The Unit don't play (uh uh!), we rap but we strapped (yep!)
Buck got the shotgun, 50 got the MAC
Spider got the sweeper and you dying to hear it clap (uh huh)
You won't have another birthday (cake!) after that (WOO!)
'Cause Yayo got a temper and he don't know how to act (fuck!)
And I been gone all Winter, but now a nigga back to get the
(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)
Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)
And you motherfuckers looking like steak (WOO!)
Food on the plate for the wolves follow rules
Don't get moved by the two's blood'll ooze on your shoes
Wait (uh huh), control your hate you ain't riding in them sixes (why?)
'Cause you spending all your (cake!) on them bitches (uh)
I need the bread lil' niggas need Christmas (uh huh)
Banks don't rap with a backpack I'm in it for the
(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)
Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)

Ha ha!!! You heard Banks say it so you know I got the MAC
I pull or pull out spray hollows at your back
I don't give a fuck, it's goin down like that
I done been through every hood, dead niggas don't rat
In the heart of a victim, murder is monumental
I don't complicate shit kid, I keep it simple
My bullet wounds will tell you a story 'bout what I been through
Southside trauma, drama with the llamas
I conversate with killers, it's usually about life
Politic with bonders It's usually about white
I'm the poster child for violence, I'm the boy in the poster
When them shots start to ring out, I'm the boy with the toaster
Yeah listen up kicko, I hustle, I get dough
You fucking with a sicko, I spaz let a clip go
Cannon out the rental, beam to 'yo temple
(Money, money, money, money, cake!)
I squeeze blow your mental, all over your friends (WOO!)

Me I'm from the street (street) where ain't nothing sweet (sweet)
The home for the homi's there's a body every week (week)
Now I don't hear the sirens but they probably on the creep (creep)
Plotting to pull me over plant the (cake!) in my Jeep (WOO!)
So I be skipping cities seven states in a week (yeah)
Can't a motherfucker breathe and tell me I can't eat
Show me the (money) uh the (money) uh the (money) uh the (money) uh the (cake!)
Nigga slow down, pump ya brakes (yeah!)
No mistakes 'cause the Jakes run the plates
Then your headed upstate for rollin 'round with a steak (uh huh)
Niggas start up the beef and run straight to the cops (uh huh!)
You a bitch ass nigga, the cup (cake!) of the block (WOO!)
Any nigga disrespect the clique getting shot
'Round here niggas get found upside down over the
(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)
Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)
WOO! OOOH!

완료

이 노래에 생소한 단어를 모두 추가하셨나요?