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

Звук


Интерфейс


Уровень сложности


Акцент



язык интерфейса

ru

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
зарегистрироваться / войти
Lyrkit

донат

5$

Lyrkit

донат

10$

Lyrkit

донат

20$

Lyrkit

Или поддержи меня в соц. сетях:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Joell Ortiz

Crack Spot

 

Crack Spot

(альбом: House Slippers - 2014)


Water, jar, coke, soda
Fire, pot, stir, slower
Ice, fluff, whip, boulder
Dry, cut, bag, over!

Don't tell me that it's [?]
Baby boy, you on the grind, find a back block
Cop a hoopty, go see Louie for a stash spot
I'm posted up until they come and get this last rock
I toast it up wit' my niggas on the strip wit' me
[?] for my good niggas, that's history
Man, I don't check the mail without that fifth wit' me
It's sixteen in that thing and it spit fully!
We out here running from the man, ducking all them vans
Taking care of all the homies stuck up in the can
Sitting in somebody kitchen cutting up these grams
If you ain't never seen it, boy you wouldn't understand
Safe in that stash house tucking all them bands
Hoodrats watching but we pluckin on they hens
Money over hoes, nigga G's up
Lawyer money, pocket money and that re-up

[Hook:]
Jackpot, I run the crack spot
Fiends running back and forth to get these blacktops
Jackpot, I run the crack spot
Nobody leaving 'til the finished wit' that last rock

Ain't a damn thing change, I'm out here getting change
It's a part of the game, boy I'm out here in the rain
The hood know my name, boy and my shit ring
Since I don't play no games, boy I let that shit ring
It's rules to this shit, a step by step booklet
To get yo' game on track, not yo' wig pushed back
Yeah I make that coke leave, then make that shit come back
I'm Fat Joe on that stove, gotta get, cook, crack!
I'm tryna get it, let some fiends hit it
Let 'em lean wit' it, make sure they Bean wit' it
If they become a Rocket, then we Hakeem wit' it
Post up e'rywhere and let that Dream wit' it
Hurricane Sandy, I flood the scene wit' it
Yo' white girl dirty, my baby clean wit' it
Environmentalists, I'm gettin green wit' it
And it's never over when everythings finished

[Hook]

I see you getting paper, see you out here trapping
But if you ain't on my team, anything can happen
I ain't out here rapping to be rapping
I'm rapping cause this is the new way of trapping
Baby boy, I get it cracking
Get ya head busted, get ya face smacked in
Ya boy so hood, my old lady packing
Anyway, back to that trap, I ain't slacking
Just got a new package and broke it into fractions!
Got the block jumping, Blake Griffen action
You got 'em like CP3, they all passing
You ain't got that fire, you selling wet matches
I don't sell duds, e'rybody blasted
Don't hate me homie, don't hate the game
Hate yo' connect homie, he gave you the 'caine
Or maybe it's yo' wack whip game that's to blame
Or maybe it's just me motherfucker, I do my thaaang!

[Hook]

готово

Ты добавил себе все незнакомые слова из этой песни?