4 Souls 歌词
| 歌曲 | 4 Souls |
| 歌手 | LA the Darkman |
| 专辑 | Heist of the Century |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Broady, Holebrook, Jackson | |
| Intro： | |
| This is how we goin' do | |
| We goin' do this right | |
| Word, word is bond | |
| Know what i'm sayin' | |
| This is la wid the track | |
| Know what i'm sayin | |
| You know how we do | |
| Word up, yo | |
| Let dark pass no stunting | |
| >from the real | |
| Better get your 4 pound god | |
| Let's proceed | |
| Yo, what yo, yo | |
| Verse 1: la | |
| I run up on rap like boo smith on a hatchback | |
| Put my patch down cause a head crack | |
| I'm trapped, in a hole filled with guns and drugs | |
| Three-headers, nothing better 5% and thugs | |
| Style tight like o.j. gloves | |
| Niggas state to state take a bug | |
| 'cause i burn rich niggaz who will hide slugs | |
| It's the coke that got me caught, | |
| In this dead train of thought | |
| We stepped the coroner theft law from the bronx new york | |
| Holding a pitchfork for cream | |
| Eyes on high beam, 13 | |
| Cooking up coke, selling as dope fiends | |
| Now realise my anger as i craft my chamber | |
| With no parental vision made a fucking head-banger | |
| Who's in change a, you dis this judge you get finished | |
| Disrespect darkman you get slapped with a guiness | |
| Kid spin it, baby mc's i'm just choking 'em | |
| My shit hits the town like 300 pounds of opium | |
| What, turbulence which is your first defence | |
| Scripts stay scrapped to kill an action-packed defence | |
| Cocoa plants, i payed the cost in a loft | |
| Now lyrically candy topping niggas and buttered soft | |
| As the holocaust | |
| Verse 2: shotti | |
| Prepare for the killin' shield | |
| Sight you lose to nightmares | |
| Stan man and my desert ??? | |
| Then i slip to the us, and then, | |
| The battle thought you had me screw-finched hologrammed | |
| You can stick it to death | |
| Talk means you scot | |
| Einstein dangerous mind | |
| 2 heads and 4 eyes | |
| This man x, | |
| I'm known when i'm off my shift | |
| Scarf on my waist pull then i'll scorch your face | |
| I'm like a copy-cat killer | |
| Born for strangling niggas | |
| Then pull figures | |
| Receive and rob the spot like dillinger | |
| Settle cap like ??? | |
| I'm saber-toothed coming at you | |
| Forfeit the minds can't win wit' no .22 | |
| Get nuke and henny rock 80 proof | |
| In the hood, never sipping while i'm drinking my jewel | |
| Dance to my ritual, lower you into my seance | |
| Bitch wearing avon | |
| Missing me ?on the rap song? | |
| I'll buck, you frontin' wit out that gk bubbly stuff | |
| Gang games for schools that's why your whole shit gets laced up | |
| With the mic as my staff | |
| I inscribe my witchcraft with full blast | |
| Buddah cut, shot these screw cats | |
| Verse 3: la | |
| When i'm lifted | |
| Rip shit up kid quick i'm busted | |
| On any demon puffing hizo can't be trusted | |
| Lustic lyrical blunts be like mud | |
| Darkman the king, lampin' on my throne of blood | |
| Lynch men, verbal henchmen, kickin' your door in | |
| Blastin', rip, flippin' your shit, rippin' your organs | |
| Triple darkness, lies trap a constant rip juggler | |
| Snake eyes dedicated undercover smuggler | |
| As i cut you | |
| I slice your brain right without the mic | |
| Vivid literature pictures shine like four nine lights | |
| Time in space, grab your head-bands, suffocate | |
| Call me chester so i had to let | |
| Them rappers i wake on fuck 'em break | |
| I hold crack like your ass | |
| Lick shots from the techs then jet through the wet grass | |
| Bubble worth like a bass, | |
| Darkman instancy, sniff canibus living | |
| Part in the caribbean sea | |
| Through your history the dark scenes will make you ears beam | |
| Talking 'bout hitting rap then sit back and hit your weed | |
| La can walk through walls stand straight up in fire | |
| Look at your eyes look at my eyes pussy | |
| And tell me who's higher | |
| Darkman empire guard you now like a gun | |
| Loading wid nine rich niggas and i'm bound to be the tenth one | |
| Verse 4: shotti | |
| Read my jungle | |
| Got the far eye see shot predator | |
| Detonator blowin' up city blocks | |
| Wid' a large watts | |
| About six clocks | |
| That's high potent killers on each corner | |
| Wid guns ready for smoking | |
| Six sense indian head hancho | |
| Yo my peso got royals that screw castro | |
| Operation statement my technique will be an experiment | |
| For my alliance i catch skins of ten lions | |
| What you trying tasting this sawed off iron | |
| Adjustable punk fashion came out your whole batch | |
| My plan to wrap this town like saran | |
| All i need is guns and a few good men | |
| Shotti, stay like scarface wid a key to shoot somebody | |
| Come get me, my fingers dipsy, | |
| Who's coming whippy, i'm a yippy | |
| First enemy who's stealin' filthy | |
| Size 'em up break 'em down i'm guilty | |
| My sons is wit' me | |
| Shot like 150 watts and fistful like kung-fu plots | |
| Wid my sing-sing shot | |
| You form something that can't be stopped | |
| Got a glock the fuck up your snot box wid a shot | |
| What! | |
| Outro: | |
| Sing-sing | |
| Knaw what i mean | |
| La the darkman | |
| Shot these fool faced keep your boots laced | |
| Many many fakes and gun rules | |
| M-a-d, wealthy | |
| Killa bees |
| zuo qu : Broady, Holebrook, Jackson | |
| Intro: | |
| This is how we goin' do | |
| We goin' do this right | |
| Word, word is bond | |
| Know what i' m sayin' | |
| This is la wid the track | |
| Know what i' m sayin | |
| You know how we do | |
| Word up, yo | |
| Let dark pass no stunting | |
| from the real | |
| Better get your 4 pound god | |
| Let' s proceed | |
| Yo, what yo, yo | |
| Verse 1: la | |
| I run up on rap like boo smith on a hatchback | |
| Put my patch down cause a head crack | |
| I' m trapped, in a hole filled with guns and drugs | |
| Threeheaders, nothing better 5 and thugs | |
| Style tight like o. j. gloves | |
| Niggas state to state take a bug | |
| ' cause i burn rich niggaz who will hide slugs | |
| It' s the coke that got me caught, | |
| In this dead train of thought | |
| We stepped the coroner theft law from the bronx new york | |
| Holding a pitchfork for cream | |
| Eyes on high beam, 13 | |
| Cooking up coke, selling as dope fiends | |
| Now realise my anger as i craft my chamber | |
| With no parental vision made a fucking headbanger | |
| Who' s in change a, you dis this judge you get finished | |
| Disrespect darkman you get slapped with a guiness | |
| Kid spin it, baby mc' s i' m just choking ' em | |
| My shit hits the town like 300 pounds of opium | |
| What, turbulence which is your first defence | |
| Scripts stay scrapped to kill an actionpacked defence | |
| Cocoa plants, i payed the cost in a loft | |
| Now lyrically candy topping niggas and buttered soft | |
| As the holocaust | |
| Verse 2: shotti | |
| Prepare for the killin' shield | |
| Sight you lose to nightmares | |
| Stan man and my desert ??? | |
| Then i slip to the us, and then, | |
| The battle thought you had me screwfinched hologrammed | |
| You can stick it to death | |
| Talk means you scot | |
| Einstein dangerous mind | |
| 2 heads and 4 eyes | |
| This man x, | |
| I' m known when i' m off my shift | |
| Scarf on my waist pull then i' ll scorch your face | |
| I' m like a copycat killer | |
| Born for strangling niggas | |
| Then pull figures | |
| Receive and rob the spot like dillinger | |
| Settle cap like ??? | |
| I' m sabertoothed coming at you | |
| Forfeit the minds can' t win wit' no . 22 | |
| Get nuke and henny rock 80 proof | |
| In the hood, never sipping while i' m drinking my jewel | |
| Dance to my ritual, lower you into my seance | |
| Bitch wearing avon | |
| Missing me ? on the rap song? | |
| I' ll buck, you frontin' wit out that gk bubbly stuff | |
| Gang games for schools that' s why your whole shit gets laced up | |
| With the mic as my staff | |
| I inscribe my witchcraft with full blast | |
| Buddah cut, shot these screw cats | |
| Verse 3: la | |
| When i' m lifted | |
| Rip shit up kid quick i' m busted | |
| On any demon puffing hizo can' t be trusted | |
| Lustic lyrical blunts be like mud | |
| Darkman the king, lampin' on my throne of blood | |
| Lynch men, verbal henchmen, kickin' your door in | |
| Blastin', rip, flippin' your shit, rippin' your organs | |
| Triple darkness, lies trap a constant rip juggler | |
| Snake eyes dedicated undercover smuggler | |
| As i cut you | |
| I slice your brain right without the mic | |
| Vivid literature pictures shine like four nine lights | |
| Time in space, grab your headbands, suffocate | |
| Call me chester so i had to let | |
| Them rappers i wake on fuck ' em break | |
| I hold crack like your ass | |
| Lick shots from the techs then jet through the wet grass | |
| Bubble worth like a bass, | |
| Darkman instancy, sniff canibus living | |
| Part in the caribbean sea | |
| Through your history the dark scenes will make you ears beam | |
| Talking ' bout hitting rap then sit back and hit your weed | |
| La can walk through walls stand straight up in fire | |
| Look at your eyes look at my eyes pussy | |
| And tell me who' s higher | |
| Darkman empire guard you now like a gun | |
| Loading wid nine rich niggas and i' m bound to be the tenth one | |
| Verse 4: shotti | |
| Read my jungle | |
| Got the far eye see shot predator | |
| Detonator blowin' up city blocks | |
| Wid' a large watts | |
| About six clocks | |
| That' s high potent killers on each corner | |
| Wid guns ready for smoking | |
| Six sense indian head hancho | |
| Yo my peso got royals that screw castro | |
| Operation statement my technique will be an experiment | |
| For my alliance i catch skins of ten lions | |
| What you trying tasting this sawed off iron | |
| Adjustable punk fashion came out your whole batch | |
| My plan to wrap this town like saran | |
| All i need is guns and a few good men | |
| Shotti, stay like scarface wid a key to shoot somebody | |
| Come get me, my fingers dipsy, | |
| Who' s coming whippy, i' m a yippy | |
| First enemy who' s stealin' filthy | |
| Size ' em up break ' em down i' m guilty | |
| My sons is wit' me | |
| Shot like 150 watts and fistful like kungfu plots | |
| Wid my singsing shot | |
| You form something that can' t be stopped | |
| Got a glock the fuck up your snot box wid a shot | |
| What! | |
| Outro: | |
| Singsing | |
| Knaw what i mean | |
| La the darkman | |
| Shot these fool faced keep your boots laced | |
| Many many fakes and gun rules | |
| Mad, wealthy | |
| Killa bees |
| zuò qǔ : Broady, Holebrook, Jackson | |
| Intro: | |
| This is how we goin' do | |
| We goin' do this right | |
| Word, word is bond | |
| Know what i' m sayin' | |
| This is la wid the track | |
| Know what i' m sayin | |
| You know how we do | |
| Word up, yo | |
| Let dark pass no stunting | |
| from the real | |
| Better get your 4 pound god | |
| Let' s proceed | |
| Yo, what yo, yo | |
| Verse 1: la | |
| I run up on rap like boo smith on a hatchback | |
| Put my patch down cause a head crack | |
| I' m trapped, in a hole filled with guns and drugs | |
| Threeheaders, nothing better 5 and thugs | |
| Style tight like o. j. gloves | |
| Niggas state to state take a bug | |
| ' cause i burn rich niggaz who will hide slugs | |
| It' s the coke that got me caught, | |
| In this dead train of thought | |
| We stepped the coroner theft law from the bronx new york | |
| Holding a pitchfork for cream | |
| Eyes on high beam, 13 | |
| Cooking up coke, selling as dope fiends | |
| Now realise my anger as i craft my chamber | |
| With no parental vision made a fucking headbanger | |
| Who' s in change a, you dis this judge you get finished | |
| Disrespect darkman you get slapped with a guiness | |
| Kid spin it, baby mc' s i' m just choking ' em | |
| My shit hits the town like 300 pounds of opium | |
| What, turbulence which is your first defence | |
| Scripts stay scrapped to kill an actionpacked defence | |
| Cocoa plants, i payed the cost in a loft | |
| Now lyrically candy topping niggas and buttered soft | |
| As the holocaust | |
| Verse 2: shotti | |
| Prepare for the killin' shield | |
| Sight you lose to nightmares | |
| Stan man and my desert ??? | |
| Then i slip to the us, and then, | |
| The battle thought you had me screwfinched hologrammed | |
| You can stick it to death | |
| Talk means you scot | |
| Einstein dangerous mind | |
| 2 heads and 4 eyes | |
| This man x, | |
| I' m known when i' m off my shift | |
| Scarf on my waist pull then i' ll scorch your face | |
| I' m like a copycat killer | |
| Born for strangling niggas | |
| Then pull figures | |
| Receive and rob the spot like dillinger | |
| Settle cap like ??? | |
| I' m sabertoothed coming at you | |
| Forfeit the minds can' t win wit' no . 22 | |
| Get nuke and henny rock 80 proof | |
| In the hood, never sipping while i' m drinking my jewel | |
| Dance to my ritual, lower you into my seance | |
| Bitch wearing avon | |
| Missing me ? on the rap song? | |
| I' ll buck, you frontin' wit out that gk bubbly stuff | |
| Gang games for schools that' s why your whole shit gets laced up | |
| With the mic as my staff | |
| I inscribe my witchcraft with full blast | |
| Buddah cut, shot these screw cats | |
| Verse 3: la | |
| When i' m lifted | |
| Rip shit up kid quick i' m busted | |
| On any demon puffing hizo can' t be trusted | |
| Lustic lyrical blunts be like mud | |
| Darkman the king, lampin' on my throne of blood | |
| Lynch men, verbal henchmen, kickin' your door in | |
| Blastin', rip, flippin' your shit, rippin' your organs | |
| Triple darkness, lies trap a constant rip juggler | |
| Snake eyes dedicated undercover smuggler | |
| As i cut you | |
| I slice your brain right without the mic | |
| Vivid literature pictures shine like four nine lights | |
| Time in space, grab your headbands, suffocate | |
| Call me chester so i had to let | |
| Them rappers i wake on fuck ' em break | |
| I hold crack like your ass | |
| Lick shots from the techs then jet through the wet grass | |
| Bubble worth like a bass, | |
| Darkman instancy, sniff canibus living | |
| Part in the caribbean sea | |
| Through your history the dark scenes will make you ears beam | |
| Talking ' bout hitting rap then sit back and hit your weed | |
| La can walk through walls stand straight up in fire | |
| Look at your eyes look at my eyes pussy | |
| And tell me who' s higher | |
| Darkman empire guard you now like a gun | |
| Loading wid nine rich niggas and i' m bound to be the tenth one | |
| Verse 4: shotti | |
| Read my jungle | |
| Got the far eye see shot predator | |
| Detonator blowin' up city blocks | |
| Wid' a large watts | |
| About six clocks | |
| That' s high potent killers on each corner | |
| Wid guns ready for smoking | |
| Six sense indian head hancho | |
| Yo my peso got royals that screw castro | |
| Operation statement my technique will be an experiment | |
| For my alliance i catch skins of ten lions | |
| What you trying tasting this sawed off iron | |
| Adjustable punk fashion came out your whole batch | |
| My plan to wrap this town like saran | |
| All i need is guns and a few good men | |
| Shotti, stay like scarface wid a key to shoot somebody | |
| Come get me, my fingers dipsy, | |
| Who' s coming whippy, i' m a yippy | |
| First enemy who' s stealin' filthy | |
| Size ' em up break ' em down i' m guilty | |
| My sons is wit' me | |
| Shot like 150 watts and fistful like kungfu plots | |
| Wid my singsing shot | |
| You form something that can' t be stopped | |
| Got a glock the fuck up your snot box wid a shot | |
| What! | |
| Outro: | |
| Singsing | |
| Knaw what i mean | |
| La the darkman | |
| Shot these fool faced keep your boots laced | |
| Many many fakes and gun rules | |
| Mad, wealthy | |
| Killa bees |
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