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lirik lagu 2-3 break – the beatnuts

[verse 1: psycho les]
people call me the drunk, or the thick funk distributor
looter, bag your whole store like my shooter
cl!ck back, put a hollow point cap in your temple
we get caught, it’s strictly mental
a stone crook, i don’t go by the book
you can’t fool me with your gangster look
i truncate a judas on my turf for wet pay
when i roll a blunt, they better rollerblade out
and don’t try talking bold
cause i’ll smack you with a bat like “walking tall”
what? you punk, who’s gonna defend you
when i bumrush your -ss and stick an icepick in you
quick, your b-tch caught a splinter from my d-ck
cause she gave me a woodie in the parking lot behind (mcdonald’s)
the bed slammer can stick a ho
with my king-size d-ck, and don king sized hand again

(2, 3, break!)

[verse 2: fashion]
i got so much of this style coming from my lips while
washed-up ducks get dumped in motherf-cking sh-t piles
bang, i got my own thang, gang ain’t it proper
drop a hollow-point sh-lly on a copper
let ’em f-cking know who’s kool where i’m coming from
slept for a while on my style now i’m stunning ’em
bagging ’em, plus i hit their hoes in the mean
cause all i ever want is fame, b-tches, and the green
seen crazy n-ggas get lost in the shuffle
with dreams turned to rubble then bust like a bubble
ta-dow, now, that’s how it’s falling
whether i’m hitting skins or i’m motherf-cking balling
hanging with my crew on the peaksk!ll plain
i throw my sh-t when laying a b-tch so get off my d-ck
trick, you know my style, no it ain’t no use
cause i can keep your ho wet like a f-cking douche

(2, 3, break!)

[verse 3: juju]
taking the mic, no haps, i be the owner
my rhymes will make n-ggas collapse into a coma
product of a concrete h-ll, i’m on a mission
deadly with intent to sh-ll the opposition
f-cking with this flow, come on, yo that’s treason
n-ggas f-ck around and get shot for no reason
junkyard n-gga, represent every time
corona’s in the house and yo gab!

[gab]
(off the richter scale)
my rhymes quake up to a 9.4, ready for war
come forth, i bust my fronts with your spinal chord
thought he got the drop, i possessed inside
better off trying to survive under a cyanide landslide
but that ain’t nothing like a penny in the vault
cause i -ssault n-ggas who couldn’t launch sh-t with catapaults
so if you ever hear the name gab one
don’t even sweat it, the worst hasn’t even begun

- the beatnuts

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