歌曲 | Pay Homage |
歌手 | JR Writer |
专辑 | History in the Making |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Brito, Byrd | |
(40 Cal.) | |
40! | |
Ok J.R. | |
It's like memorable moments again | |
Ya dig,dipset | |
I mean...so much fuckin cake in the buildin(so much cake in the buildin) | |
Ya'll wouldn't believe man | |
That's why my niggas got pies and shit | |
Enough of all that | |
Verse 1 | |
(40 Cal.) | |
Uh, you see my money like a baggel shop | |
Why i make the powder blow | |
First i get papi bread,then i make sour dough | |
You still (pumpa nickel?) move every hour slow | |
My work's so powerful, yo money ours bro | |
It's no baggel jokes,but for butter i be raisin toast | |
Like a bread truck, i keep the latest loafs | |
I serve beef, grab pounds and squeeze | |
I'm sick with the 40.,call it mad cow disease | |
My niggas get down for cheese,and felony wraps | |
Ya'll niggas hamsters,really cant tell if they rats | |
But,you call a turtle when the shell in they back | |
I play eight ball for menace i can help you with that | |
Then im,back to melt the track,soon as the vanilla crack | |
Two-door,NSX thats a selfish act | |
Mack to ya pelvis black,i'll put you where Elvis at | |
Walkin pawn shop when i take ya chain and sell it back,crack. | |
(chorus) | |
(J.R. Writer) | |
It's the Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
You guys are not a threat,pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
We got the streets owned,you can not compete homes | |
It's the Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap,we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
You now rockin with the best,pay homage to the set | |
Verse 2 | |
(J.R. Writer) | |
Ok,im ready,Uh | |
Listen i'm bout flippin',but if the slouch trippin | |
I'll put some scratch on his head like his scalp ithchin' | |
Dig it J.R. is hot,whippin the car is drop | |
Barbies watch,the dealer admit it i'm hard to top | |
Hater i'm back,face it you wack,J.R. is crack | |
The same thing they place in a pack,I stay in the trap | |
So no you wont hear 8-0-8 when i put some damn base on the track | |
I bring the fiends out,give them niggas what they need | |
I dont see droughts,it is figures what i see | |
Bring them keys out,to the middle of the p's | |
No matter the temperature degree | |
Rain,sleet,snow,i'm pitchin them for sheeze' | |
Pure bricks,you'll have to go to Switzerland for these | |
I get em often breeze | |
Its easy to the beast | |
You should bow down the next time you see me in the streets. | |
(chorus) | |
(J.R. Writer) | |
It's the Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
You guys are not a threat,pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
We got the streets owned,you can not compete homes | |
It's the Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap,we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip...dip,dip,dip,dip,dip,dipset | |
You now rockin with the best,pay homage to the set |
zuo qu : Brito, Byrd | |
40 Cal. | |
40! | |
Ok J. R. | |
It' s like memorable moments again | |
Ya dig, dipset | |
I mean... so much fuckin cake in the buildin so much cake in the buildin | |
Ya' ll wouldn' t believe man | |
That' s why my niggas got pies and shit | |
Enough of all that | |
Verse 1 | |
40 Cal. | |
Uh, you see my money like a baggel shop | |
Why i make the powder blow | |
First i get papi bread, then i make sour dough | |
You still pumpa nickel? move every hour slow | |
My work' s so powerful, yo money ours bro | |
It' s no baggel jokes, but for butter i be raisin toast | |
Like a bread truck, i keep the latest loafs | |
I serve beef, grab pounds and squeeze | |
I' m sick with the 40., call it mad cow disease | |
My niggas get down for cheese, and felony wraps | |
Ya' ll niggas hamsters, really cant tell if they rats | |
But, you call a turtle when the shell in they back | |
I play eight ball for menace i can help you with that | |
Then im, back to melt the track, soon as the vanilla crack | |
Twodoor, NSX thats a selfish act | |
Mack to ya pelvis black, i' ll put you where Elvis at | |
Walkin pawn shop when i take ya chain and sell it back, crack. | |
chorus | |
J. R. Writer | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You guys are not a threat, pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
We got the streets owned, you can not compete homes | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap, we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You now rockin with the best, pay homage to the set | |
Verse 2 | |
J. R. Writer | |
Ok, im ready, Uh | |
Listen i' m bout flippin', but if the slouch trippin | |
I' ll put some scratch on his head like his scalp ithchin' | |
Dig it J. R. is hot, whippin the car is drop | |
Barbies watch, the dealer admit it i' m hard to top | |
Hater i' m back, face it you wack, J. R. is crack | |
The same thing they place in a pack, I stay in the trap | |
So no you wont hear 808 when i put some damn base on the track | |
I bring the fiends out, give them niggas what they need | |
I dont see droughts, it is figures what i see | |
Bring them keys out, to the middle of the p' s | |
No matter the temperature degree | |
Rain, sleet, snow, i' m pitchin them for sheeze' | |
Pure bricks, you' ll have to go to Switzerland for these | |
I get em often breeze | |
Its easy to the beast | |
You should bow down the next time you see me in the streets. | |
chorus | |
J. R. Writer | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You guys are not a threat, pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
We got the streets owned, you can not compete homes | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap, we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You now rockin with the best, pay homage to the set |
zuò qǔ : Brito, Byrd | |
40 Cal. | |
40! | |
Ok J. R. | |
It' s like memorable moments again | |
Ya dig, dipset | |
I mean... so much fuckin cake in the buildin so much cake in the buildin | |
Ya' ll wouldn' t believe man | |
That' s why my niggas got pies and shit | |
Enough of all that | |
Verse 1 | |
40 Cal. | |
Uh, you see my money like a baggel shop | |
Why i make the powder blow | |
First i get papi bread, then i make sour dough | |
You still pumpa nickel? move every hour slow | |
My work' s so powerful, yo money ours bro | |
It' s no baggel jokes, but for butter i be raisin toast | |
Like a bread truck, i keep the latest loafs | |
I serve beef, grab pounds and squeeze | |
I' m sick with the 40., call it mad cow disease | |
My niggas get down for cheese, and felony wraps | |
Ya' ll niggas hamsters, really cant tell if they rats | |
But, you call a turtle when the shell in they back | |
I play eight ball for menace i can help you with that | |
Then im, back to melt the track, soon as the vanilla crack | |
Twodoor, NSX thats a selfish act | |
Mack to ya pelvis black, i' ll put you where Elvis at | |
Walkin pawn shop when i take ya chain and sell it back, crack. | |
chorus | |
J. R. Writer | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You guys are not a threat, pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
We got the streets owned, you can not compete homes | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap, we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You now rockin with the best, pay homage to the set | |
Verse 2 | |
J. R. Writer | |
Ok, im ready, Uh | |
Listen i' m bout flippin', but if the slouch trippin | |
I' ll put some scratch on his head like his scalp ithchin' | |
Dig it J. R. is hot, whippin the car is drop | |
Barbies watch, the dealer admit it i' m hard to top | |
Hater i' m back, face it you wack, J. R. is crack | |
The same thing they place in a pack, I stay in the trap | |
So no you wont hear 808 when i put some damn base on the track | |
I bring the fiends out, give them niggas what they need | |
I dont see droughts, it is figures what i see | |
Bring them keys out, to the middle of the p' s | |
No matter the temperature degree | |
Rain, sleet, snow, i' m pitchin them for sheeze' | |
Pure bricks, you' ll have to go to Switzerland for these | |
I get em often breeze | |
Its easy to the beast | |
You should bow down the next time you see me in the streets. | |
chorus | |
J. R. Writer | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You guys are not a threat, pay homage to the best nigga | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
We got the streets owned, you can not compete homes | |
It' s the Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
Any problems its a wrap, we put Harlem on the map yes | |
Dip... dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dipset | |
You now rockin with the best, pay homage to the set |