lirik lagu bad boys 2 – knowledge the pirate & big ghost ltd
[intro: knowledge the pirate]
pirate
chill
[verse 1: knowledge the pirate & flee lord]
son thought he was el presidente ’til they sn*tched his soul
shots flew over the grass, he know
we sendin’ two shooters from cuba, usin’ that mkultra mind control
after certain information was disclosed
he told about the murders and them drugs that we sold
the way it would come in, and where it would go
where the drugs and sticks where stashed, sh*t that he only know
two kilos, half a hundred g’s spread out on the floor
from them trees we raked the least, trashbags of that dough
ot tinted v, just me and my woe
call me the referee, any foul sh*t, my whistle gon’ blow
hunnid rounds clips, them missles i throw, yo, listen
you plant them seeds then you reap what you sow
zipped up his bag, left a tag on his toe
they found his body on eight ave, drove by in a jag real slow (real slow, you know? mob sh*t)
don’t get your soul ass assassined f*ckin’ with this soul assassin
if you ride and stay strapped in keep your seat belt fastened
hermès belt, valentino, yeah the latest fashion
they spilled a pint of his blood like it was “thugs passion”
pullin’ off laughin’ like will and martin in that aston
two bad boys, no caption
pullin’ off laughin’ like will and martin in that aston
two bad boys (haha, yeah, skrrt, lord, lord)
[verse 2: flee lord]
sucker when that ass and soul full of passion
take a peak in my closet, i got robes full of fashion (robes full of fashion)
you ho n*ggas crashin’, exposed by your actions
you fiendin’, i can see it, in your nose, while you scratch it (sniff!)
forty*one plates with five different flavors
ain’t no where safe, so we always drive with the laser (boom*boom*boom*boom*boom)
now we settle in the depth, with my medellín connect (medellín connect)
besides holdin’ o’s, homie heavy on his neck (ha!)
we some pirates on the land, we supply and demand (supply and demand)
on the mircowave is food, then we fry in the pan (whip, whip, whip, whip)
shakin’ up the game, hunnid shots, jamaica aim (brrt)
haters lame; d*mn near gettin’ naked for the fame (f*ck outta here)
close to a mil’ so it’s peace, f*ck a deal (f*ck a deal!)
for the bread and the b*tter we gon’ toast ya for real (get ’em!)
our cars is the truth (truth), there’s stars in the roof (woo)
i’m in charge of the streets because i’m large in the booth, mother—, ah (yeah)
[outro: flee lord]
let’s go, pirate (brrt!), uh, ahoy, belovy (yeah, empire, n*gga, mobb up)
ay
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