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Текст песни Индика
Nineteen, still gettin' kicked out the crib Ripped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and piss Urine burnin', I could smell the liquor in this Cats always tryna' pick up the fist Duff this dude out Rappers stoop just to get to your crib Now it’s like who’s face? who’s warped? too sauced Distort thoughts, on my corpse on the asphalt Back when I’d slack more, rock my slacks or my ass Everytime, I rap I blast-off Back when I catch Cor', I always had Sports Dippin' on cops in my track shorts So tell my mom I had to make it right I lie every night about the lime-light so I could lie at night And tell my Pops' I gotta' take advice Keep my head screwed on tight, abuse these mics See me, I’m the contusion type A cat to smack a mic and catch my fuckin' hair when I’m losing height Ratking, never losing hype, no It’s Ratking and I do it right Ratking, yeah, I do it nice, woah Bitch, I skated before I rapped, if you take me before your captain Bet twenty hots on your Daddy , probably cold and passive Cause' Pops' was the one that got to me Feeling down like he passed it and when I’m cornered, it’s action I was kinda' out the game, I’ma put the quarter right back in the slot In 09', we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block Bitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it And nowadays, I’m on the hunt for lyrics to box with And some pretty bitches that ain’t trip if it’s a hit and run I got the gold cause' I don’t do the crying bro She Mario, I’m tryna' keep the whining to a minimum Piggies come, bet i’m splittin' quicker than I finish rum Find me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers and my shirt like they was chicken crumbs The room spinnin', finna' yak if I don’t hit the blunt Got the chin wagon, slim chances of me getting up After this, mind in the trash next to where my fuckin' passion went Doc’s fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I’m traveling six hours or more Brick out on the tour, got kicked out of the morgue Spit cattle manure shit, shit, rally the Horsemen Tally the corpses