artis: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

lirik lagu 4 ya ear – south central cartel

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[ chorus ]
s.c. cartel b-mpin fat tracks in your ear
rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good
rollin down the ‘shaw in my lexus
( ? ) rims and my alpine b-mpin
the 808 is thumpin

[ verse 1: havikk the rhime son ]
dippin down yo block, battery’s hot in a rag deuce
flossin on threes, gold d’s for my gees
slidin ( ? ) dub skatin evil as i swerve
hit the switch on a b-tch, post my daytons on the curb
easin through the hood, scope the scenery
fiendin for the greenery
gotta stack a end as i bend
north on the ‘shaw past the one-time flossin
catch a fool slippin on them 100 spokes, he’s walkin
home like a buster, let the alpine crank
switch the cd as i fire up the dank
oh thank god i’m a rider, rhime son be
yo, that gee from the carte…
with pockets on swoll’ and the caviar’s callin me
and n-gg-s mad-d-gg-n me bringin out the hog in me
punk–ss busters wanna show me, they flexin
parks my six-deuce as i jumps in my lexus

[ chorus ]
s.c. cartel b-mpin fat tracks in your ear
rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good

[ verse 2: prodje’je ]
once again it’s on, polish up the chrome on my coupe d
open up a new ( ? )
the ( ? ) is in my deck and it’s rockin
shockin, hoes wanna pose but i’m knockin
boots as i swoops down the 91 west
yes, i gots to wear a bullet-proof vest
fools wanna trip so i trip back on em
f-ck they -ss up till they hoes don’t want em
i’m on em, the eastside gees and the p
at ease, you don’t wanna f-ck with these
and we’se the malice, careless m-th-f-ckas
puttin pooh-puts in a jammie like smuckers
my knockers holdin sh-t down like the underground
(we’ll make you go round and round)
so now i’m callin up my crew
and what you gonna do
when you see the n-gg-s in blue

[ chorus ]
s.c. cartel b-mpin fat tracks in your ear
rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good
rollin down the ‘shaw in my lexus
( ? ) rims and my alpine b-mpin
the 808 is thumpin

[ verse 3: droop & twin ]
one mo’ time through yo hood and mines
you’re walkin thin lines on these bomb–ss rhymes
and verses, sleepin off in he-rs-s
n-gg-s on the run cause my flows cause curses
with verses, we ain’t in this game for the fame
we just like servin hoods like a m-th-f-ckin hurricane
muthaf-ckin busters, me and twin puttin it down in ’96
tossin up tricks and crossin n-gg-s like chop sticks
sh-t i spit hits your ears and cause pain
stressin out your frame like you got slim-fast on your brain
it ain’t no thing to be a in-the-cut rider
and it ain’t no thing to be a black godfather
think of a n-gg- standin 5 foot 6
with some baggy–ss pants and some bomb–ss kicks
twin gives a f-ck, loc, cause i’m a rider
with my n-gg- droop be o.g. westsider

[ outro: havoc the mouthpiece ]
rollin through your hood is another n-gg- from the cartel
who done earned his stripes
bumpin “flashlight”
tryin to get rich like richie
[ ] through my city

[ chorus (repeated till fade) ]
s.c. cartel b-mpin fat tracks in your ear
rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good
rollin down the ‘shaw in my lexus
( ? ) rims and my alpine b-mpin
the 808 is thumpin