歌曲 | Where You Think You Goin' |
歌手 | Flipmode Squad |
专辑 | The Imperial Album |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Fisher, Jones, Lewis, McNair ... | |
Intro: | |
Yeah, where you think you goin. where you think you goin. | |
Ladies and gentlemen, it the unit for the 9-8. | |
Flipmode squad baby. that my word. | |
All you sucker mc, try to hide this stuff. come back here. | |
Where you think you goin, nigga. come back here. | |
Yll niggaz ain seein jack. shit !!! | |
Verse 1: baby sham | |
Aiiyo, speak the truth. | |
Too short to let it hurt. some talk dirt, and be the first slangin hertz. | |
Freestylin of the hum of the birds. | |
Fall back when i shine on my shine, two shows follow behind. | |
It a fucked up vehicle. switchin my lines. | |
Hotel asks a nigga: "could i share my dimes? | |
Picture that, when you scared to draw toes. | |
Playin me close. | |
Rollin with the dogs wearin yesterdays clothes. | |
Left a fouled sin into my squad without permition. | |
I started dissin, hopin you listen. pay attention. | |
Fatheresly. the shadow leads you back to the hood. | |
You wanna switch up because some niggas stalked you up. | |
Or is the fact that they thought you was rollin with us. | |
Left you all draged, like two trains crashin it up. | |
Verse 2: spliff starr | |
Aiiyo, spliff starr drama. | |
Bullet him to sonna. | |
Type of nigga that would sell crack to your mama. | |
Take the cash and give me a bind marijuana. | |
Check me bound, and some turn bull panic . | |
Back in the days. i off the drugs like a sonna. | |
Nigga pushin ! boy. kill emselves like no other. | |
Kid don like blues brothers. | |
Cold weather rock the ramma. | |
Lye in front off the jerry d.a. and ya . | |
I represent street niggas, carry heat niggas. | |
Wants to keep niggas. ain nothing but these sweet niggas. | |
I stay tooken. gun but cha scar open. | |
If you fuck wit my squad nigga where you think you goin. | |
Corus: | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you movin for. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 3: busta rhymes | |
You think that you can run (ha) | |
You think that you can hide (haa) | |
You best believe you still comin. i think you better slide. | |
While you stay bitchin, another nigga missin. | |
Bodies snatch you up.! behold the cream. . | |
Cought in hells kitchen. my trigger fingers itchin. | |
Nervous system fucked up. | |
That why my nerves twitchin. | |
Inslave your mentality. nigga brain fried. | |
We after you, runnin sergeon for a free ride. | |
Where you think you goin son ? | |
We gon?catch you soon. | |
We here to take over this shit. | |
Pour the tycoon. | |
Blossom and gloom. capture any nigga sober in a little dark room. | |
Ha ha ha ha ha. | |
Verse 4: rah digga | |
Uh oh. you lil league boy i know your beats. | |
You sound bullshitely, you rock . | |
Swearin you to ball, when you know youe wack. | |
In a studio settin of a reverands track. | |
Boy ! rah gets busy, my shit be way slaver. | |
Curder rapper ernest like the one slave labour. | |
One first be like the bitch tap oil. | |
Loyal to my niggas. enemies are fucked around, and riders rappin for you. | |
Spot stays blowin. goin?to the top. | |
Where you think youe goin. | |
Pocket stay throwin. smooth like the lowin. | |
Rap chick flowin. | |
Where you think youe goin. | |
Chorus | |
Verse 5: rampage | |
I a hard man at work. | |
Lyrical expert. | |
Look out before you get hurt. | |
Bury the dirt. line for line. | |
Ramp i be the mastermind. | |
That be full time watch me shine. | |
I know the seven sign. | |
I rich, and still life is a bitch. | |
Losin?snitch like camey fake beggar. | |
Jim baker. i take youe life like the undertaker. | |
Flipmode money-maker, make that kill for this paper. | |
It on the poppin. | |
People wanna know when the album droppin. | |
Start talkin. keep walkin. | |
Flatbush new york and we live for you. | |
Sling for you. | |
My squad struck oil. | |
Now we coppin platinum things. | |
Diamond rings. nice cosy things. | |
And a party for free. | |
From the tunnel to envy. | |
Ramp the rugged mc. | |
My squad ke! eps growin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 6: lord have mercy | |
Chief gunnin to. | |
Splash rain potters pooves. | |
Fuck is you. start stand peach. | |
Chuff for choose. | |
Scoffer booves. | |
Now low muscles moves. | |
Smash crew like statue with jungle jewels. | |
Son gets school, wit the dummin crew. | |
Pay double dues. cradle to the graves, hustle grooves. | |
Flesh tissue. death kiss you. no love for you. | |
Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. | |
And me the most wanted fool. | |
Unfriendly in horrical, make power moves. | |
Snatch colors loose. a dollar rule. | |
Raw business shit in my hands, and shakes yours with it. | |
Till you cause fridget. | |
Local or long distance. | |
Gets master served. | |
And crash a burn | |
Like james evans when i blowin. | |
Fuck is wrong wit cha. | |
Where you think youe goin. | |
Where you think youe goin. | |
Where you think youe goin. | |
Chorus (*fades*) |
zuo ci : Fisher, Jones, Lewis, McNair ... | |
Intro: | |
Yeah, where you think you goin. where you think you goin. | |
Ladies and gentlemen, it the unit for the 98. | |
Flipmode squad baby. that my word. | |
All you sucker mc, try to hide this stuff. come back here. | |
Where you think you goin, nigga. come back here. | |
Y ll niggaz ain seein jack. shit !!! | |
Verse 1: baby sham | |
Aiiyo, speak the truth. | |
Too short to let it hurt. some talk dirt, and be the first slangin hertz. | |
Freestylin of the hum of the birds. | |
Fall back when i shine on my shine, two shows follow behind. | |
It a fucked up vehicle. switchin my lines. | |
Hotel asks a nigga: " could i share my dimes? | |
Picture that, when you scared to draw toes. | |
Playin me close. | |
Rollin with the dogs wearin yesterdays clothes. | |
Left a fouled sin into my squad without permition. | |
I started dissin, hopin you listen. pay attention. | |
Fatheresly. the shadow leads you back to the hood. | |
You wanna switch up because some niggas stalked you up. | |
Or is the fact that they thought you was rollin with us. | |
Left you all draged, like two trains crashin it up. | |
Verse 2: spliff starr | |
Aiiyo, spliff starr drama. | |
Bullet him to sonna. | |
Type of nigga that would sell crack to your mama. | |
Take the cash and give me a bind marijuana. | |
Check me bound, and some turn bull panic . | |
Back in the days. i off the drugs like a sonna. | |
Nigga pushin ! boy. kill emselves like no other. | |
Kid don like blues brothers. | |
Cold weather rock the ramma. | |
Lye in front off the jerry d. a. and ya . | |
I represent street niggas, carry heat niggas. | |
Wants to keep niggas. ain nothing but these sweet niggas. | |
I stay tooken. gun but cha scar open. | |
If you fuck wit my squad nigga where you think you goin. | |
Corus: | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you movin for. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 3: busta rhymes | |
You think that you can run ha | |
You think that you can hide haa | |
You best believe you still comin. i think you better slide. | |
While you stay bitchin, another nigga missin. | |
Bodies snatch you up.! behold the cream. . | |
Cought in hells kitchen. my trigger fingers itchin. | |
Nervous system fucked up. | |
That why my nerves twitchin. | |
Inslave your mentality. nigga brain fried. | |
We after you, runnin sergeon for a free ride. | |
Where you think you goin son ? | |
We gon? catch you soon. | |
We here to take over this shit. | |
Pour the tycoon. | |
Blossom and gloom. capture any nigga sober in a little dark room. | |
Ha ha ha ha ha. | |
Verse 4: rah digga | |
Uh oh. you lil league boy i know your beats. | |
You sound bullshitely, you rock . | |
Swearin you to ball, when you know you e wack. | |
In a studio settin of a reverands track. | |
Boy ! rah gets busy, my shit be way slaver. | |
Curder rapper ernest like the one slave labour. | |
One first be like the bitch tap oil. | |
Loyal to my niggas. enemies are fucked around, and riders rappin for you. | |
Spot stays blowin. goin? to the top. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Pocket stay throwin. smooth like the lowin. | |
Rap chick flowin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Chorus | |
Verse 5: rampage | |
I a hard man at work. | |
Lyrical expert. | |
Look out before you get hurt. | |
Bury the dirt. line for line. | |
Ramp i be the mastermind. | |
That be full time watch me shine. | |
I know the seven sign. | |
I rich, and still life is a bitch. | |
Losin? snitch like camey fake beggar. | |
Jim baker. i take you e life like the undertaker. | |
Flipmode moneymaker, make that kill for this paper. | |
It on the poppin. | |
People wanna know when the album droppin. | |
Start talkin. keep walkin. | |
Flatbush new york and we live for you. | |
Sling for you. | |
My squad struck oil. | |
Now we coppin platinum things. | |
Diamond rings. nice cosy things. | |
And a party for free. | |
From the tunnel to envy. | |
Ramp the rugged mc. | |
My squad ke! eps growin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 6: lord have mercy | |
Chief gunnin to. | |
Splash rain potters pooves. | |
Fuck is you. start stand peach. | |
Chuff for choose. | |
Scoffer booves. | |
Now low muscles moves. | |
Smash crew like statue with jungle jewels. | |
Son gets school, wit the dummin crew. | |
Pay double dues. cradle to the graves, hustle grooves. | |
Flesh tissue. death kiss you. no love for you. | |
Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. | |
And me the most wanted fool. | |
Unfriendly in horrical, make power moves. | |
Snatch colors loose. a dollar rule. | |
Raw business shit in my hands, and shakes yours with it. | |
Till you cause fridget. | |
Local or long distance. | |
Gets master served. | |
And crash a burn | |
Like james evans when i blowin. | |
Fuck is wrong wit cha. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Chorus fades |
zuò cí : Fisher, Jones, Lewis, McNair ... | |
Intro: | |
Yeah, where you think you goin. where you think you goin. | |
Ladies and gentlemen, it the unit for the 98. | |
Flipmode squad baby. that my word. | |
All you sucker mc, try to hide this stuff. come back here. | |
Where you think you goin, nigga. come back here. | |
Y ll niggaz ain seein jack. shit !!! | |
Verse 1: baby sham | |
Aiiyo, speak the truth. | |
Too short to let it hurt. some talk dirt, and be the first slangin hertz. | |
Freestylin of the hum of the birds. | |
Fall back when i shine on my shine, two shows follow behind. | |
It a fucked up vehicle. switchin my lines. | |
Hotel asks a nigga: " could i share my dimes? | |
Picture that, when you scared to draw toes. | |
Playin me close. | |
Rollin with the dogs wearin yesterdays clothes. | |
Left a fouled sin into my squad without permition. | |
I started dissin, hopin you listen. pay attention. | |
Fatheresly. the shadow leads you back to the hood. | |
You wanna switch up because some niggas stalked you up. | |
Or is the fact that they thought you was rollin with us. | |
Left you all draged, like two trains crashin it up. | |
Verse 2: spliff starr | |
Aiiyo, spliff starr drama. | |
Bullet him to sonna. | |
Type of nigga that would sell crack to your mama. | |
Take the cash and give me a bind marijuana. | |
Check me bound, and some turn bull panic . | |
Back in the days. i off the drugs like a sonna. | |
Nigga pushin ! boy. kill emselves like no other. | |
Kid don like blues brothers. | |
Cold weather rock the ramma. | |
Lye in front off the jerry d. a. and ya . | |
I represent street niggas, carry heat niggas. | |
Wants to keep niggas. ain nothing but these sweet niggas. | |
I stay tooken. gun but cha scar open. | |
If you fuck wit my squad nigga where you think you goin. | |
Corus: | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Aiiyo, what you movin for. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Where you think you goin | |
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 3: busta rhymes | |
You think that you can run ha | |
You think that you can hide haa | |
You best believe you still comin. i think you better slide. | |
While you stay bitchin, another nigga missin. | |
Bodies snatch you up.! behold the cream. . | |
Cought in hells kitchen. my trigger fingers itchin. | |
Nervous system fucked up. | |
That why my nerves twitchin. | |
Inslave your mentality. nigga brain fried. | |
We after you, runnin sergeon for a free ride. | |
Where you think you goin son ? | |
We gon? catch you soon. | |
We here to take over this shit. | |
Pour the tycoon. | |
Blossom and gloom. capture any nigga sober in a little dark room. | |
Ha ha ha ha ha. | |
Verse 4: rah digga | |
Uh oh. you lil league boy i know your beats. | |
You sound bullshitely, you rock . | |
Swearin you to ball, when you know you e wack. | |
In a studio settin of a reverands track. | |
Boy ! rah gets busy, my shit be way slaver. | |
Curder rapper ernest like the one slave labour. | |
One first be like the bitch tap oil. | |
Loyal to my niggas. enemies are fucked around, and riders rappin for you. | |
Spot stays blowin. goin? to the top. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Pocket stay throwin. smooth like the lowin. | |
Rap chick flowin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Chorus | |
Verse 5: rampage | |
I a hard man at work. | |
Lyrical expert. | |
Look out before you get hurt. | |
Bury the dirt. line for line. | |
Ramp i be the mastermind. | |
That be full time watch me shine. | |
I know the seven sign. | |
I rich, and still life is a bitch. | |
Losin? snitch like camey fake beggar. | |
Jim baker. i take you e life like the undertaker. | |
Flipmode moneymaker, make that kill for this paper. | |
It on the poppin. | |
People wanna know when the album droppin. | |
Start talkin. keep walkin. | |
Flatbush new york and we live for you. | |
Sling for you. | |
My squad struck oil. | |
Now we coppin platinum things. | |
Diamond rings. nice cosy things. | |
And a party for free. | |
From the tunnel to envy. | |
Ramp the rugged mc. | |
My squad ke! eps growin. | |
Where you think you goin. | |
Verse 6: lord have mercy | |
Chief gunnin to. | |
Splash rain potters pooves. | |
Fuck is you. start stand peach. | |
Chuff for choose. | |
Scoffer booves. | |
Now low muscles moves. | |
Smash crew like statue with jungle jewels. | |
Son gets school, wit the dummin crew. | |
Pay double dues. cradle to the graves, hustle grooves. | |
Flesh tissue. death kiss you. no love for you. | |
Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. | |
And me the most wanted fool. | |
Unfriendly in horrical, make power moves. | |
Snatch colors loose. a dollar rule. | |
Raw business shit in my hands, and shakes yours with it. | |
Till you cause fridget. | |
Local or long distance. | |
Gets master served. | |
And crash a burn | |
Like james evans when i blowin. | |
Fuck is wrong wit cha. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Where you think you e goin. | |
Chorus fades |