One Shot Deal - Album Version (Explicit) 歌词
| 歌曲 | One Shot Deal - Album Version (Explicit) |
| 歌手 | Beanie Sigel |
| 歌手 | Redman |
| 专辑 | The B.Coming |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Grant, Harrell, Noble | |
| Vocal：Beanie Sigel/Redman | |
| [Beanie Sigel] | |
| One shot deal, one shot one kill | |
| Hit you with the one shot skill | |
| Bullets lift you up like you poppin on the wheel | |
| Feel I can't die when I'm poppin on the pill | |
| So real that it feel, keep Cochran on my heels | |
| Who rock the black and back out | |
| Now the MAC back out, just bout to blackout | |
| Got the ROC on my back, SP on my chain | |
| Shooters on the block slinging P last name | |
| Outta hot pink thangs like Camron Range | |
| The cocaine cowboy at work | |
| I put ya niggaz in the dirt for one like Dirt | |
| Concealed hammer won't jam or won't chirp | |
| Catch you on my second merk | |
| Fresh outta jail, ice grill gat to smirk | |
| Bitches on the waste can't serve 'em | |
| ROC without Jay won't work? | |
| Shit like we ain't here | |
| Actin like SP ain't here | |
| How ya'll niggaz can't see that clear? Clear? | |
| Yeah, slow all the way down young scrapper | |
| Pump ya brakes real fast, before ya crash | |
| Crack ya head on the dash | |
| I put ya body in a cast, keep my shotty on blast | |
| Hard heads don't get the picture until they see the flash | |
| You ain't ballin, you pump faking | |
| Till you found in ya trunk naked | |
| Four pound to ya crown like, "Where the paper?" | |
| B. Sig, cold crook, I trap paper like notebook | |
| When the hot water disappear like when coke cook | |
| Then resurface, its Sig. Berk-owitz, bitch I'm sick | |
| Leave that ass like Dama | |
| Sig. heat that ass like sauna | |
| Stretch ya body out like recliner | |
| Stretch my middle finger to your honor | |
| like, "**** the world", thats my persona, love drama | |
| Drop a building like Osama, you vagina | |
| I know you wish you never met me like Carl Thomas | |
| Try to forget me like all silence | |
| ****in with a vet be, all problems | |
| I'm not about the threats B, I'm all promise | |
| Before "The Truth", position in the booth | |
| As a young scrap, I was vicious as a youth | |
| Kept a gat moving pigeons in the Coupe | |
| You was strapped, then positioned on the stoop | |
| Stay strapped, put my pistol on shoot | |
| Mac take ya "Juice" like Bishop on the roof | |
| I had ya pissing in ya trunk like a roof | |
| Bullets hit ya chest like a blunt rolled loose | |
| I'm that corn liquor nigga, 100 proof | |
| I bring the storm, all you niggaz lace ya boots | |
| Better yet, pull out ya strings, make a noose | |
| Hang yaself, here's a deuce deuce, bang yaself like Cheddar Bob | |
| I'm in the hood like S-T-tall cat-Crooked Letter-I | |
| S-P-C-O, nigga yes I | |
| [Redman] | |
| Yes I | |
| [Beanie Sigel] | |
| Matta fact | |
| [Redman] | |
| Yeah, Yeah | |
| [Beanie Sigel] | |
| Bring it back | |
| [Redman] | |
| Bring it back, me, Doc, America's blunted | |
| Not from there, but I'm Philly Most Wanted | |
| Drop and roll, when my biscuit boil | |
| Talk is greasy, toungue with Crisco oil | |
| Streets is mine, check my flow online | |
| At ww.cutanigga.com | |
| Bricks, two on the hip, reach for the sky | |
| You and ya Burberry suit is buried alive | |
| On top of the Empire, dare me to dive | |
| [Weeeeeee] there I go, no parachute | |
| Jackass like Knoxville, hot as Cancun | |
| Chest hair is baboon, Redman rip the show | |
| I be the raw in ya bitches nose | |
| She be goin to the bathroom, sniffing blow | |
| Like, "Oh Docta shit, my man a joke" | |
| I know, I be strapped with a double 4-4 | |
| And a Slim Jim to open ya Cadillac door | |
| In the Bricks you hear them guns | |
| Rat-a-tat-BOOM | |
| Any nigga get X'ed out like Tic-Tac-Toe | |
| Any bitch that know, Redman goin the distance | |
| We ain't tryin to get ****ed for instance | |
| When you bust baby, gon light the insence | |
| Pass me the rag, hop back in the Jag | |
| I stole out the showroom with the pricetag | |
| I wrote this rhyme off 25 blunt drags | |
| Hear that sound (whoosh), leave a block hunchback | |
| Killa House, understand prick | |
| We ain't gon stop till we "RICH BITCH" | |
| Holla back, Redman, Beanie Sigel | |
| Killa House |
| zuo ci : Grant, Harrell, Noble | |
| Vocal: Beanie Sigel Redman | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| One shot deal, one shot one kill | |
| Hit you with the one shot skill | |
| Bullets lift you up like you poppin on the wheel | |
| Feel I can' t die when I' m poppin on the pill | |
| So real that it feel, keep Cochran on my heels | |
| Who rock the black and back out | |
| Now the MAC back out, just bout to blackout | |
| Got the ROC on my back, SP on my chain | |
| Shooters on the block slinging P last name | |
| Outta hot pink thangs like Camron Range | |
| The cocaine cowboy at work | |
| I put ya niggaz in the dirt for one like Dirt | |
| Concealed hammer won' t jam or won' t chirp | |
| Catch you on my second merk | |
| Fresh outta jail, ice grill gat to smirk | |
| Bitches on the waste can' t serve ' em | |
| ROC without Jay won' t work? | |
| Shit like we ain' t here | |
| Actin like SP ain' t here | |
| How ya' ll niggaz can' t see that clear? Clear? | |
| Yeah, slow all the way down young scrapper | |
| Pump ya brakes real fast, before ya crash | |
| Crack ya head on the dash | |
| I put ya body in a cast, keep my shotty on blast | |
| Hard heads don' t get the picture until they see the flash | |
| You ain' t ballin, you pump faking | |
| Till you found in ya trunk naked | |
| Four pound to ya crown like, " Where the paper?" | |
| B. Sig, cold crook, I trap paper like notebook | |
| When the hot water disappear like when coke cook | |
| Then resurface, its Sig. Berkowitz, bitch I' m sick | |
| Leave that ass like Dama | |
| Sig. heat that ass like sauna | |
| Stretch ya body out like recliner | |
| Stretch my middle finger to your honor | |
| like, " the world", thats my persona, love drama | |
| Drop a building like Osama, you vagina | |
| I know you wish you never met me like Carl Thomas | |
| Try to forget me like all silence | |
| in with a vet be, all problems | |
| I' m not about the threats B, I' m all promise | |
| Before " The Truth", position in the booth | |
| As a young scrap, I was vicious as a youth | |
| Kept a gat moving pigeons in the Coupe | |
| You was strapped, then positioned on the stoop | |
| Stay strapped, put my pistol on shoot | |
| Mac take ya " Juice" like Bishop on the roof | |
| I had ya pissing in ya trunk like a roof | |
| Bullets hit ya chest like a blunt rolled loose | |
| I' m that corn liquor nigga, 100 proof | |
| I bring the storm, all you niggaz lace ya boots | |
| Better yet, pull out ya strings, make a noose | |
| Hang yaself, here' s a deuce deuce, bang yaself like Cheddar Bob | |
| I' m in the hood like STtall catCrooked LetterI | |
| SPCO, nigga yes I | |
| Redman | |
| Yes I | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Matta fact | |
| Redman | |
| Yeah, Yeah | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Bring it back | |
| Redman | |
| Bring it back, me, Doc, America' s blunted | |
| Not from there, but I' m Philly Most Wanted | |
| Drop and roll, when my biscuit boil | |
| Talk is greasy, toungue with Crisco oil | |
| Streets is mine, check my flow online | |
| At ww. cutanigga. com | |
| Bricks, two on the hip, reach for the sky | |
| You and ya Burberry suit is buried alive | |
| On top of the Empire, dare me to dive | |
| Weeeeeee there I go, no parachute | |
| Jackass like Knoxville, hot as Cancun | |
| Chest hair is baboon, Redman rip the show | |
| I be the raw in ya bitches nose | |
| She be goin to the bathroom, sniffing blow | |
| Like, " Oh Docta shit, my man a joke" | |
| I know, I be strapped with a double 44 | |
| And a Slim Jim to open ya Cadillac door | |
| In the Bricks you hear them guns | |
| RatatatBOOM | |
| Any nigga get X' ed out like TicTacToe | |
| Any bitch that know, Redman goin the distance | |
| We ain' t tryin to get ed for instance | |
| When you bust baby, gon light the insence | |
| Pass me the rag, hop back in the Jag | |
| I stole out the showroom with the pricetag | |
| I wrote this rhyme off 25 blunt drags | |
| Hear that sound whoosh, leave a block hunchback | |
| Killa House, understand prick | |
| We ain' t gon stop till we " RICH BITCH" | |
| Holla back, Redman, Beanie Sigel | |
| Killa House |
| zuò cí : Grant, Harrell, Noble | |
| Vocal: Beanie Sigel Redman | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| One shot deal, one shot one kill | |
| Hit you with the one shot skill | |
| Bullets lift you up like you poppin on the wheel | |
| Feel I can' t die when I' m poppin on the pill | |
| So real that it feel, keep Cochran on my heels | |
| Who rock the black and back out | |
| Now the MAC back out, just bout to blackout | |
| Got the ROC on my back, SP on my chain | |
| Shooters on the block slinging P last name | |
| Outta hot pink thangs like Camron Range | |
| The cocaine cowboy at work | |
| I put ya niggaz in the dirt for one like Dirt | |
| Concealed hammer won' t jam or won' t chirp | |
| Catch you on my second merk | |
| Fresh outta jail, ice grill gat to smirk | |
| Bitches on the waste can' t serve ' em | |
| ROC without Jay won' t work? | |
| Shit like we ain' t here | |
| Actin like SP ain' t here | |
| How ya' ll niggaz can' t see that clear? Clear? | |
| Yeah, slow all the way down young scrapper | |
| Pump ya brakes real fast, before ya crash | |
| Crack ya head on the dash | |
| I put ya body in a cast, keep my shotty on blast | |
| Hard heads don' t get the picture until they see the flash | |
| You ain' t ballin, you pump faking | |
| Till you found in ya trunk naked | |
| Four pound to ya crown like, " Where the paper?" | |
| B. Sig, cold crook, I trap paper like notebook | |
| When the hot water disappear like when coke cook | |
| Then resurface, its Sig. Berkowitz, bitch I' m sick | |
| Leave that ass like Dama | |
| Sig. heat that ass like sauna | |
| Stretch ya body out like recliner | |
| Stretch my middle finger to your honor | |
| like, " the world", thats my persona, love drama | |
| Drop a building like Osama, you vagina | |
| I know you wish you never met me like Carl Thomas | |
| Try to forget me like all silence | |
| in with a vet be, all problems | |
| I' m not about the threats B, I' m all promise | |
| Before " The Truth", position in the booth | |
| As a young scrap, I was vicious as a youth | |
| Kept a gat moving pigeons in the Coupe | |
| You was strapped, then positioned on the stoop | |
| Stay strapped, put my pistol on shoot | |
| Mac take ya " Juice" like Bishop on the roof | |
| I had ya pissing in ya trunk like a roof | |
| Bullets hit ya chest like a blunt rolled loose | |
| I' m that corn liquor nigga, 100 proof | |
| I bring the storm, all you niggaz lace ya boots | |
| Better yet, pull out ya strings, make a noose | |
| Hang yaself, here' s a deuce deuce, bang yaself like Cheddar Bob | |
| I' m in the hood like STtall catCrooked LetterI | |
| SPCO, nigga yes I | |
| Redman | |
| Yes I | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Matta fact | |
| Redman | |
| Yeah, Yeah | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Bring it back | |
| Redman | |
| Bring it back, me, Doc, America' s blunted | |
| Not from there, but I' m Philly Most Wanted | |
| Drop and roll, when my biscuit boil | |
| Talk is greasy, toungue with Crisco oil | |
| Streets is mine, check my flow online | |
| At ww. cutanigga. com | |
| Bricks, two on the hip, reach for the sky | |
| You and ya Burberry suit is buried alive | |
| On top of the Empire, dare me to dive | |
| Weeeeeee there I go, no parachute | |
| Jackass like Knoxville, hot as Cancun | |
| Chest hair is baboon, Redman rip the show | |
| I be the raw in ya bitches nose | |
| She be goin to the bathroom, sniffing blow | |
| Like, " Oh Docta shit, my man a joke" | |
| I know, I be strapped with a double 44 | |
| And a Slim Jim to open ya Cadillac door | |
| In the Bricks you hear them guns | |
| RatatatBOOM | |
| Any nigga get X' ed out like TicTacToe | |
| Any bitch that know, Redman goin the distance | |
| We ain' t tryin to get ed for instance | |
| When you bust baby, gon light the insence | |
| Pass me the rag, hop back in the Jag | |
| I stole out the showroom with the pricetag | |
| I wrote this rhyme off 25 blunt drags | |
| Hear that sound whoosh, leave a block hunchback | |
| Killa House, understand prick | |
| We ain' t gon stop till we " RICH BITCH" | |
| Holla back, Redman, Beanie Sigel | |
| Killa House |
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