歌曲 | Ya Can't Trust Nobody |
歌手 | Kurupt |
专辑 | Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Arnaud, Brown | |
Man, what you need, man? | |
Yo' ************* ass always come around here | |
Wit' this whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit *************t | |
************* come around here with a twenty sack of somethin' ************* | |
My bills gotta get paid mother****** | |
I'm outta here, catch me next week beotch | |
Hop in my | |
Chevy get to wheelin' down the block | |
Makin' sales, whether slangin' ****** or rocks | |
Clockin' major strapped up, me and my *************z in the house | |
Might as well back up, bustin' on *************z if they act up | |
On a mission with my gang, around here we run thangs | |
Get paid, every night, where we hang' | |
Cause it's a street thang, cops and automatic weapon | |
Keep a ************* intact, for these *************z half-steppin' | |
Daz Dillinger, got sewed up for real | |
Dealers servin' these *************z for a quarter a mill' | |
Ninety-eight my motto to kill, that's how it is | |
************* my family, ************* my friends, when my **** come in | |
You feel like ************* trust, a ************* lose his life | |
Tryin' to trust on mother******s like us | |
Stackin', stolen stack stackin' it ain't nuttin' but murders | |
Kidnappings jackings and vault cracking | |
Crackin' up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts | |
The dark parts of the mother******' park | |
The tarantula's loose and | |
I'm heated now | |
With somethin' in my right palm to keep y'all seated down | |
Repeated, headhuntin', huntin' for heads | |
Shot in the chest neck arm and legs | |
Ain't no fakin', we all out to get paid | |
Wettin' *************z what we do nowadays(*************) | |
Around here, you can't trust nobody | |
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody(Somebody) | |
Whether it's ****** or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody | |
We jack a ************* for a half a thang, we back up in this | |
With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million | |
Now we set, we relaxed chillin', livin' the boss life | |
Every day every night me and the | |
Columbians take flight | |
Eight hundred ki's to fly across seas | |
When I flip it | |
I make about twelve million | |
G'sI'm a two thousand | |
Ricky Ross, transportin' the sauce | |
And it pay to be the boss cause when yo' ass get crossed | |
Every ************* on the street gets paid | |
A couple pieces spread, bear arms *************, warfare ************* | |
Shut down the alarms ************* | |
Time to hit off, get off then break off | |
If he don't kick in the bread then take off | |
Columbian ties, | |
Columbian mob members in | |
Columbian neckties | |
Columbians disfigured, | |
Daz MIDI machine | |
DillingerTwo shotty | |
Young Gotti, 'bout to put it on somebody | |
And my mindstate today is ************* everybody | |
Around here, you can't trust nobody | |
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody(Somebody) | |
Whether it's ****** or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody | |
Around here, you can't trust nobody | |
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody(Somebody) | |
Whether it's ****** or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody | |
*************t, who the ************* at the door? | |
Aww man, the police, fool | |
C'mon get out of here man c'mon | |
Flush the *************t, flush the coke |
zuo ci : Arnaud, Brown | |
Man, what you need, man? | |
Yo' ass always come around here | |
Wit' this whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit t | |
come around here with a twenty sack of somethin' | |
My bills gotta get paid mother | |
I' m outta here, catch me next week beotch | |
Hop in my | |
Chevy get to wheelin' down the block | |
Makin' sales, whether slangin' or rocks | |
Clockin' major strapped up, me and my z in the house | |
Might as well back up, bustin' on z if they act up | |
On a mission with my gang, around here we run thangs | |
Get paid, every night, where we hang' | |
Cause it' s a street thang, cops and automatic weapon | |
Keep a intact, for these z halfsteppin' | |
Daz Dillinger, got sewed up for real | |
Dealers servin' these z for a quarter a mill' | |
Ninetyeight my motto to kill, that' s how it is | |
my family, my friends, when my come in | |
You feel like trust, a lose his life | |
Tryin' to trust on mother s like us | |
Stackin', stolen stack stackin' it ain' t nuttin' but murders | |
Kidnappings jackings and vault cracking | |
Crackin' up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts | |
The dark parts of the mother' park | |
The tarantula' s loose and | |
I' m heated now | |
With somethin' in my right palm to keep y' all seated down | |
Repeated, headhuntin', huntin' for heads | |
Shot in the chest neck arm and legs | |
Ain' t no fakin', we all out to get paid | |
Wettin' z what we do nowadays | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
We jack a for a half a thang, we back up in this | |
With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million | |
Now we set, we relaxed chillin', livin' the boss life | |
Every day every night me and the | |
Columbians take flight | |
Eight hundred ki' s to fly across seas | |
When I flip it | |
I make about twelve million | |
G' sI' m a two thousand | |
Ricky Ross, transportin' the sauce | |
And it pay to be the boss cause when yo' ass get crossed | |
Every on the street gets paid | |
A couple pieces spread, bear arms , warfare | |
Shut down the alarms | |
Time to hit off, get off then break off | |
If he don' t kick in the bread then take off | |
Columbian ties, | |
Columbian mob members in | |
Columbian neckties | |
Columbians disfigured, | |
Daz MIDI machine | |
DillingerTwo shotty | |
Young Gotti, ' bout to put it on somebody | |
And my mindstate today is everybody | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
t, who the at the door? | |
Aww man, the police, fool | |
C' mon get out of here man c' mon | |
Flush the t, flush the coke |
zuò cí : Arnaud, Brown | |
Man, what you need, man? | |
Yo' ass always come around here | |
Wit' this whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit t | |
come around here with a twenty sack of somethin' | |
My bills gotta get paid mother | |
I' m outta here, catch me next week beotch | |
Hop in my | |
Chevy get to wheelin' down the block | |
Makin' sales, whether slangin' or rocks | |
Clockin' major strapped up, me and my z in the house | |
Might as well back up, bustin' on z if they act up | |
On a mission with my gang, around here we run thangs | |
Get paid, every night, where we hang' | |
Cause it' s a street thang, cops and automatic weapon | |
Keep a intact, for these z halfsteppin' | |
Daz Dillinger, got sewed up for real | |
Dealers servin' these z for a quarter a mill' | |
Ninetyeight my motto to kill, that' s how it is | |
my family, my friends, when my come in | |
You feel like trust, a lose his life | |
Tryin' to trust on mother s like us | |
Stackin', stolen stack stackin' it ain' t nuttin' but murders | |
Kidnappings jackings and vault cracking | |
Crackin' up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts | |
The dark parts of the mother' park | |
The tarantula' s loose and | |
I' m heated now | |
With somethin' in my right palm to keep y' all seated down | |
Repeated, headhuntin', huntin' for heads | |
Shot in the chest neck arm and legs | |
Ain' t no fakin', we all out to get paid | |
Wettin' z what we do nowadays | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
We jack a for a half a thang, we back up in this | |
With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million | |
Now we set, we relaxed chillin', livin' the boss life | |
Every day every night me and the | |
Columbians take flight | |
Eight hundred ki' s to fly across seas | |
When I flip it | |
I make about twelve million | |
G' sI' m a two thousand | |
Ricky Ross, transportin' the sauce | |
And it pay to be the boss cause when yo' ass get crossed | |
Every on the street gets paid | |
A couple pieces spread, bear arms , warfare | |
Shut down the alarms | |
Time to hit off, get off then break off | |
If he don' t kick in the bread then take off | |
Columbian ties, | |
Columbian mob members in | |
Columbian neckties | |
Columbians disfigured, | |
Daz MIDI machine | |
DillingerTwo shotty | |
Young Gotti, ' bout to put it on somebody | |
And my mindstate today is everybody | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
Around here, you can' t trust nobody | |
Anybody' s somebody tryin to jack somebody Somebody | |
Whether it' s or your life or narcotics | |
Anyway you get, you can' t trust nobody | |
t, who the at the door? | |
Aww man, the police, fool | |
C' mon get out of here man c' mon | |
Flush the t, flush the coke |