The Braids 歌词
| 歌曲 | The Braids |
| 歌手 | Mystikal |
| 专辑 | Let's Get Ready |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Benjamin, Patton, Sheats ... | |
| Chorus:Don't ****, don't **** with the braids! | |
| Can't ****, can't **** with the braids! | |
| Don't ****, don't **** with the braids! | |
| Ya can't ****, you can't **** with the braids! (barking) | |
| You can't stop me! how then? | |
| Watch me! watch me! ain't gonna be no congress | |
| Drop me, you can't block me, who stop me? it's outside! | |
| You should've known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? | |
| They kept me in the shade | |
| But now I'm back mother****er, the nigga with the cannon for two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus[verse 1]504! the doe man, got dogs in when the rhymes go bad | |
| Make ink on the page, catch flame | |
| Lit light like propane | |
| No sweat, no blood, no pain, no game | |
| No card, no deal, no dice, no game | |
| Giving these bitches somethin vicious! | |
| I got them falling to pieces, like porcelain dishes | |
| I'm dirty! | |
| I get all the way down on the ground | |
| And just wonder, memorize, take a picture, write a book | |
| I don't give a ****! | |
| I man supply, ground ripper! | |
| I'm here, lay down and give it up! | |
| Nigga you ain't gonna leave me out my entrance (out my entrance) | |
| Count a hundred thousand pennies, every sentence! | |
| Buddatt, buddatt, buddatt! get back! | |
| What's happening? | |
| I rip cracks and pop tapes | |
| I'm so hot they just gotta rock what | |
| I sprayThe type of guy that write what | |
| I say!I'm so wild, cause | |
| I'm round where them crocodiles play!(can't be none there) | |
| I make you say, ow, give it to me (step it up!) | |
| Don't be that way | |
| I'm tearing ya, cause they tell ya with da music! | |
| I been doing this shit, how to train em', how to use em'! | |
| I'm a gangsta, better pop up respect | |
| Take a piece of lectum | |
| Maximum effect ya! | |
| But eclectic, ground perfected! | |
| It just don't get no colder, bet you if | |
| I won't effect it. | |
| Y'all niggas couldn't pop a rubberband | |
| You ****ing with the man! | |
| Chorus:[verse 2] | |
| Bitch bout 55, got damn it! | |
| Get into it, get off, get down, get cross, get tied! | |
| For my million (son) and my mychelle (daughter), | |
| My mama, and my brother, and my nephew, and myself! | |
| The man upstairs, cause | |
| I kept it up, | |
| For my niggas, and my rounds, back down | |
| Bout to step it up (step it up) | |
| Put in some cash and some outkast beats. | |
| Hop behind the wheel and come out from the ****ing backseat! | |
| Michael tyler! rhyme and droating driver, miracle rip plyer! | |
| The fasthold desire! on fire, reach a flyer, ain't nobody lie! | |
| Starting them out of a team, city of seam, | |
| With 100 suckers and a busta! | |
| And I'm still clean! hollering hiya! | |
| Right before | |
| I chop you in your throat! | |
| Another rapper say | |
| I'm on my way | |
| To get the ****ing hat and coat, and hit the mother****ing door! | |
| You can't stop me! how then? | |
| Just watch me, watch me! | |
| Ain't gonna be no calling congress! | |
| You can't drop me, you can't block me, who stop me? | |
| Its outside | |
| You should've known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? they kept me in the shade | |
| But now I'm back mother****ers, | |
| The nigga with the cannon for the two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus: |
| zuo ci : Benjamin, Patton, Sheats ... | |
| Chorus: Don' t , don' t with the braids! | |
| Can' t , can' t with the braids! | |
| Don' t , don' t with the braids! | |
| Ya can' t , you can' t with the braids! barking | |
| You can' t stop me! how then? | |
| Watch me! watch me! ain' t gonna be no congress | |
| Drop me, you can' t block me, who stop me? it' s outside! | |
| You should' ve known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? | |
| They kept me in the shade | |
| But now I' m back mother er, the nigga with the cannon for two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus verse 1 504! the doe man, got dogs in when the rhymes go bad | |
| Make ink on the page, catch flame | |
| Lit light like propane | |
| No sweat, no blood, no pain, no game | |
| No card, no deal, no dice, no game | |
| Giving these bitches somethin vicious! | |
| I got them falling to pieces, like porcelain dishes | |
| I' m dirty! | |
| I get all the way down on the ground | |
| And just wonder, memorize, take a picture, write a book | |
| I don' t give a ! | |
| I man supply, ground ripper! | |
| I' m here, lay down and give it up! | |
| Nigga you ain' t gonna leave me out my entrance out my entrance | |
| Count a hundred thousand pennies, every sentence! | |
| Buddatt, buddatt, buddatt! get back! | |
| What' s happening? | |
| I rip cracks and pop tapes | |
| I' m so hot they just gotta rock what | |
| I sprayThe type of guy that write what | |
| I say! I' m so wild, cause | |
| I' m round where them crocodiles play! can' t be none there | |
| I make you say, ow, give it to me step it up! | |
| Don' t be that way | |
| I' m tearing ya, cause they tell ya with da music! | |
| I been doing this shit, how to train em', how to use em'! | |
| I' m a gangsta, better pop up respect | |
| Take a piece of lectum | |
| Maximum effect ya! | |
| But eclectic, ground perfected! | |
| It just don' t get no colder, bet you if | |
| I won' t effect it. | |
| Y' all niggas couldn' t pop a rubberband | |
| You ing with the man! | |
| Chorus: verse 2 | |
| Bitch bout 55, got damn it! | |
| Get into it, get off, get down, get cross, get tied! | |
| For my million son and my mychelle daughter, | |
| My mama, and my brother, and my nephew, and myself! | |
| The man upstairs, cause | |
| I kept it up, | |
| For my niggas, and my rounds, back down | |
| Bout to step it up step it up | |
| Put in some cash and some outkast beats. | |
| Hop behind the wheel and come out from the ing backseat! | |
| Michael tyler! rhyme and droating driver, miracle rip plyer! | |
| The fasthold desire! on fire, reach a flyer, ain' t nobody lie! | |
| Starting them out of a team, city of seam, | |
| With 100 suckers and a busta! | |
| And I' m still clean! hollering hiya! | |
| Right before | |
| I chop you in your throat! | |
| Another rapper say | |
| I' m on my way | |
| To get the ing hat and coat, and hit the mother ing door! | |
| You can' t stop me! how then? | |
| Just watch me, watch me! | |
| Ain' t gonna be no calling congress! | |
| You can' t drop me, you can' t block me, who stop me? | |
| Its outside | |
| You should' ve known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? they kept me in the shade | |
| But now I' m back mother ers, | |
| The nigga with the cannon for the two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus: |
| zuò cí : Benjamin, Patton, Sheats ... | |
| Chorus: Don' t , don' t with the braids! | |
| Can' t , can' t with the braids! | |
| Don' t , don' t with the braids! | |
| Ya can' t , you can' t with the braids! barking | |
| You can' t stop me! how then? | |
| Watch me! watch me! ain' t gonna be no congress | |
| Drop me, you can' t block me, who stop me? it' s outside! | |
| You should' ve known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? | |
| They kept me in the shade | |
| But now I' m back mother er, the nigga with the cannon for two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus verse 1 504! the doe man, got dogs in when the rhymes go bad | |
| Make ink on the page, catch flame | |
| Lit light like propane | |
| No sweat, no blood, no pain, no game | |
| No card, no deal, no dice, no game | |
| Giving these bitches somethin vicious! | |
| I got them falling to pieces, like porcelain dishes | |
| I' m dirty! | |
| I get all the way down on the ground | |
| And just wonder, memorize, take a picture, write a book | |
| I don' t give a ! | |
| I man supply, ground ripper! | |
| I' m here, lay down and give it up! | |
| Nigga you ain' t gonna leave me out my entrance out my entrance | |
| Count a hundred thousand pennies, every sentence! | |
| Buddatt, buddatt, buddatt! get back! | |
| What' s happening? | |
| I rip cracks and pop tapes | |
| I' m so hot they just gotta rock what | |
| I sprayThe type of guy that write what | |
| I say! I' m so wild, cause | |
| I' m round where them crocodiles play! can' t be none there | |
| I make you say, ow, give it to me step it up! | |
| Don' t be that way | |
| I' m tearing ya, cause they tell ya with da music! | |
| I been doing this shit, how to train em', how to use em'! | |
| I' m a gangsta, better pop up respect | |
| Take a piece of lectum | |
| Maximum effect ya! | |
| But eclectic, ground perfected! | |
| It just don' t get no colder, bet you if | |
| I won' t effect it. | |
| Y' all niggas couldn' t pop a rubberband | |
| You ing with the man! | |
| Chorus: verse 2 | |
| Bitch bout 55, got damn it! | |
| Get into it, get off, get down, get cross, get tied! | |
| For my million son and my mychelle daughter, | |
| My mama, and my brother, and my nephew, and myself! | |
| The man upstairs, cause | |
| I kept it up, | |
| For my niggas, and my rounds, back down | |
| Bout to step it up step it up | |
| Put in some cash and some outkast beats. | |
| Hop behind the wheel and come out from the ing backseat! | |
| Michael tyler! rhyme and droating driver, miracle rip plyer! | |
| The fasthold desire! on fire, reach a flyer, ain' t nobody lie! | |
| Starting them out of a team, city of seam, | |
| With 100 suckers and a busta! | |
| And I' m still clean! hollering hiya! | |
| Right before | |
| I chop you in your throat! | |
| Another rapper say | |
| I' m on my way | |
| To get the ing hat and coat, and hit the mother ing door! | |
| You can' t stop me! how then? | |
| Just watch me, watch me! | |
| Ain' t gonna be no calling congress! | |
| You can' t drop me, you can' t block me, who stop me? | |
| Its outside | |
| You should' ve known better! | |
| Is it cause | |
| I flow better? they kept me in the shade | |
| But now I' m back mother ers, | |
| The nigga with the cannon for the two | |
| Swinging with the braids! | |
| Chorus: |
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