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lirik lagu strapped – seven the general

[chorus]

i got them straps in my bed
them racks on yo head

[intro]

you know what it is n-gga
seven mile sh-t n-gga, seven the general, yep

[verse 1]

look

straps all on my mattress, big chopper, no hatchet, on the seat with me in traffic
quarter key on me in plastic, got a baggie full of baggies 15×15 i be sacking
you thief a piece, we playing sn-tchies, got a squad of body sn-tchers head hunting no apache
black hawk him down before we scalp him, bayonet on front the barrel put deniro on your ralphie.

it’s strap, after strap, after strap in this b-tch we be going with swat
it’s rack, after rack, after rack in this b-tch i’m controlling a vault
a sack of the thrax and mac of that dog i’ll have all of you mauled
then run through the mall, with rudy & paul dropping off scripts like we men of the cloth

long as ain’t no sh-t involved, we gone hit a l!ck tomorrow or we gone let that 50 off
tell migo whip me up a brick of raw, or we gone leave carlito like the beatle, “near the box cars” .. seven

[chrous]

[verse 2]

n-gga

racks all on my mattress, tool with me no ratchet, got a dude with me no accent (hablo no english)
just threw them rucci’s on a cl-ssic 442 with posi-traction, on them troopers i be dancing
at m.t.u. they call me manson, i have a b-tch come move that package, if we loose she shoot them crackaz
my lifes a movie script, no actors, known for rollin no gymnastics, taking trips without the acid

it’s band, after band, after band in this b-tch but no trumpets or drums
it’f fam, after fam, after fam in this b-tch, n-gga, nothing but bums.
it’s brown over tan, or the c0ke by the gram, selling dope in the slums
i load up a van, and get all of my manz, and give all of them grands and put all of them on

long as ain’t no snitching dogg, cuz he gone come up missing dog, then we gone get his b-tch tomorrow
slanging beads like it’s mardi gras, catch you in the d throw him a evergreen party dogg.. seven

[chorus]

[verse 3]

yea i got it on me, i don’t go nowhere without it, pull it out and get to blowing
cocaine so white, they think it’s snowing, in that 740 rolling, low key while they patrolling
7 mile the hood, you know i’m going, even though i’m off parole they out here sweeping for them warrants
caught n-ggas sleeping while they snoring, pockets full of bond money, left the precinct by the morning

i’m out of this b-tch and i’m back on the strip in a matter of ticks
then fall through the mall with some dollars to ball, then get back to the chips
no f-cks for the law, got a daughter to spoil she needs more than a fit
so know if its dough on the floor for the cho imma train him to go he gone shake like a pit

and we gone keep on whipping n-gga, big ole pot of greens, promethazine know your prescriptions n-gga
i leave the scene ain’t no descriptions n-gga, dollars on your head i’ll blow your brain like an addiction n-gga .. seven

– written by seven the general

- seven the general

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