Caribbean Connection 歌词
| 歌曲 | Caribbean Connection |
| 歌手 | Big Pun |
| 专辑 | Capital Punishment |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Frierson, Jean, Rios | |
| (Wyclef) Warning! | |
| (Big Pun) | |
| Yo, wanna rumble with Pun hah? | |
| (loud farting noise) Shit on the whole industry | |
| Yo who puff more Owls than Pun? Pile on more styles than Pun? | |
| Who the only one with over a thousand guns? | |
| Runnin up in niggaz cribs like I paid the bill | |
| Make you squeal the combination to the safe for wealth | |
| I lace your grill with the firestarter | |
| Hit your wife with the sawed-off from the shower powers I devour | |
| I'm all about the fundamentals, like Pun and pencil | |
| A piece of paper, a decent caper and someone to strafe you | |
| My mental's compatible with the radicals | |
| My odyssey type, qualities allow me to poli' with animals | |
| Niggaz is cannibals and the ghetto's a jungle | |
| where you either bet all your bundles or struggle on the simple and humble | |
| My niggaz'll rumble with any man for a Benny Fran | |
| Try to imagine what they can sacrifice for twenty grand | |
| Niggaz'll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces | |
| and pound out we jettin to the ground Uptown | |
| up in the Boogie Down, bitches swallow the team, pile on the green | |
| Surrounded in green like flowers in Spring | |
| For now I'm a King, so it's more than money, all the honies | |
| used to call me Punny cause my fam was always hungry | |
| But now we rollin lovely, and you feel worse, want my money | |
| Let your steel burst, cause I'd rather see you in hell first | |
| Chorus: Wyclef and Pun | |
| (Wyclef singing) mucho trabajo, poquito dinero | |
| (Pun) I'm selling perico | |
| (Clef) Yo what's the dilly yo? | |
| (Pun) I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro | |
| (repeat all 2X) | |
| (Wyclef Jean) | |
| Yo, yo, yo keep the lights keep the camera all I want is the action | |
| The battle's on, where I roam in composition | |
| A hardcore crowd, waitin to see, if I break | |
| like your first time in jail when you got fucked by an inmate | |
| It'll never happen, I'm on balance like a Libra | |
| And if I get murdered, Don't Cry For Me Argentina | |
| Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father | |
| In three days, I rise like Christ and still sober | |
| Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the Gatling | |
| I'm looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan | |
| Fists of fury, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry | |
| I turn Mr. Rogers Neighborhood topsy turvy | |
| Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary | |
| This ain't Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery | |
| Bodies, from World War I and II is there | |
| You don't want a third war, that's nuclear warfare | |
| So Big Pun, count the stacks, make it fast | |
| Illegal money turns legal now we runnin a laundromat | |
| Your hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack | |
| Your better off in D.C. with the mayor smoking crack | |
| Yo, this ain't a diss, Wyclef bomb threat | |
| Run out of the building or get blast in your Guess | |
| Tec for Tec, or we can go text for text, oh | |
| I forgot, you don't read, so take this hole in your chest - blaow | |
| Hide the blood, give you the gun, run and hide | |
| So when the DT shows up, he thought it was a suicide | |
| Suicide it's a suicide... | |
| Chorus (fades out) |
| zuo ci : Frierson, Jean, Rios | |
| Wyclef Warning! | |
| Big Pun | |
| Yo, wanna rumble with Pun hah? | |
| loud farting noise Shit on the whole industry | |
| Yo who puff more Owls than Pun? Pile on more styles than Pun? | |
| Who the only one with over a thousand guns? | |
| Runnin up in niggaz cribs like I paid the bill | |
| Make you squeal the combination to the safe for wealth | |
| I lace your grill with the firestarter | |
| Hit your wife with the sawedoff from the shower powers I devour | |
| I' m all about the fundamentals, like Pun and pencil | |
| A piece of paper, a decent caper and someone to strafe you | |
| My mental' s compatible with the radicals | |
| My odyssey type, qualities allow me to poli' with animals | |
| Niggaz is cannibals and the ghetto' s a jungle | |
| where you either bet all your bundles or struggle on the simple and humble | |
| My niggaz' ll rumble with any man for a Benny Fran | |
| Try to imagine what they can sacrifice for twenty grand | |
| Niggaz' ll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces | |
| and pound out we jettin to the ground Uptown | |
| up in the Boogie Down, bitches swallow the team, pile on the green | |
| Surrounded in green like flowers in Spring | |
| For now I' m a King, so it' s more than money, all the honies | |
| used to call me Punny cause my fam was always hungry | |
| But now we rollin lovely, and you feel worse, want my money | |
| Let your steel burst, cause I' d rather see you in hell first | |
| Chorus: Wyclef and Pun | |
| Wyclef singing mucho trabajo, poquito dinero | |
| Pun I' m selling perico | |
| Clef Yo what' s the dilly yo? | |
| Pun I' m Uptown making moves just like Castro | |
| repeat all 2X | |
| Wyclef Jean | |
| Yo, yo, yo keep the lights keep the camera all I want is the action | |
| The battle' s on, where I roam in composition | |
| A hardcore crowd, waitin to see, if I break | |
| like your first time in jail when you got fucked by an inmate | |
| It' ll never happen, I' m on balance like a Libra | |
| And if I get murdered, Don' t Cry For Me Argentina | |
| Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father | |
| In three days, I rise like Christ and still sober | |
| Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the Gatling | |
| I' m looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan | |
| Fists of fury, you wouldn' t like me when I' m angry | |
| I turn Mr. Rogers Neighborhood topsy turvy | |
| Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary | |
| This ain' t Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery | |
| Bodies, from World War I and II is there | |
| You don' t want a third war, that' s nuclear warfare | |
| So Big Pun, count the stacks, make it fast | |
| Illegal money turns legal now we runnin a laundromat | |
| Your hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack | |
| Your better off in D. C. with the mayor smoking crack | |
| Yo, this ain' t a diss, Wyclef bomb threat | |
| Run out of the building or get blast in your Guess | |
| Tec for Tec, or we can go text for text, oh | |
| I forgot, you don' t read, so take this hole in your chest blaow | |
| Hide the blood, give you the gun, run and hide | |
| So when the DT shows up, he thought it was a suicide | |
| Suicide it' s a suicide... | |
| Chorus fades out |
| zuò cí : Frierson, Jean, Rios | |
| Wyclef Warning! | |
| Big Pun | |
| Yo, wanna rumble with Pun hah? | |
| loud farting noise Shit on the whole industry | |
| Yo who puff more Owls than Pun? Pile on more styles than Pun? | |
| Who the only one with over a thousand guns? | |
| Runnin up in niggaz cribs like I paid the bill | |
| Make you squeal the combination to the safe for wealth | |
| I lace your grill with the firestarter | |
| Hit your wife with the sawedoff from the shower powers I devour | |
| I' m all about the fundamentals, like Pun and pencil | |
| A piece of paper, a decent caper and someone to strafe you | |
| My mental' s compatible with the radicals | |
| My odyssey type, qualities allow me to poli' with animals | |
| Niggaz is cannibals and the ghetto' s a jungle | |
| where you either bet all your bundles or struggle on the simple and humble | |
| My niggaz' ll rumble with any man for a Benny Fran | |
| Try to imagine what they can sacrifice for twenty grand | |
| Niggaz' ll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces | |
| and pound out we jettin to the ground Uptown | |
| up in the Boogie Down, bitches swallow the team, pile on the green | |
| Surrounded in green like flowers in Spring | |
| For now I' m a King, so it' s more than money, all the honies | |
| used to call me Punny cause my fam was always hungry | |
| But now we rollin lovely, and you feel worse, want my money | |
| Let your steel burst, cause I' d rather see you in hell first | |
| Chorus: Wyclef and Pun | |
| Wyclef singing mucho trabajo, poquito dinero | |
| Pun I' m selling perico | |
| Clef Yo what' s the dilly yo? | |
| Pun I' m Uptown making moves just like Castro | |
| repeat all 2X | |
| Wyclef Jean | |
| Yo, yo, yo keep the lights keep the camera all I want is the action | |
| The battle' s on, where I roam in composition | |
| A hardcore crowd, waitin to see, if I break | |
| like your first time in jail when you got fucked by an inmate | |
| It' ll never happen, I' m on balance like a Libra | |
| And if I get murdered, Don' t Cry For Me Argentina | |
| Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father | |
| In three days, I rise like Christ and still sober | |
| Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the Gatling | |
| I' m looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan | |
| Fists of fury, you wouldn' t like me when I' m angry | |
| I turn Mr. Rogers Neighborhood topsy turvy | |
| Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary | |
| This ain' t Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery | |
| Bodies, from World War I and II is there | |
| You don' t want a third war, that' s nuclear warfare | |
| So Big Pun, count the stacks, make it fast | |
| Illegal money turns legal now we runnin a laundromat | |
| Your hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack | |
| Your better off in D. C. with the mayor smoking crack | |
| Yo, this ain' t a diss, Wyclef bomb threat | |
| Run out of the building or get blast in your Guess | |
| Tec for Tec, or we can go text for text, oh | |
| I forgot, you don' t read, so take this hole in your chest blaow | |
| Hide the blood, give you the gun, run and hide | |
| So when the DT shows up, he thought it was a suicide | |
| Suicide it' s a suicide... | |
| Chorus fades out |
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