Текст песни Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - R.A.I.D. | Слова песни Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - R.A.I.D. | Тексты песен Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E.

Артист:

R.A.I.D.

Данные: текст песни / слова песни

Жанры : hip-hop rap rapcore funk hip hop

Видео: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - R.A.I.D.

[ Ganxsta R?dd]
Man
All I know when we get out
We finna roll
Check this one out

Brothers, do we got bass?
[ all ] (Yes, we got bass)
Too many busters out there on the streets
We gonna have to take em out

(Go on with it, Ridd)

[ VERSE 1: Ganxsta R?dd ]
But before we go on, my name`s Ridd, not Ren
It`s me again, comin out the lock-in
O.M.B., my brother, bring on the bass
There`s dollars to be made and posses to waste
Pass by the hood to pick up the gat
Stop by the studio for the new track
Q Ball rollin, 8 Ball in the pocket
Just bail on stage and pull the mic out the socket
Boo-Yaa dogs (woof!) locked on the canine
It`s `89, it`s time to get mine
This madness, you never had this
Home of the O.G.`s (we threw out all the faggots)
I`m pluggin my microphone with full-equipped lyrics
MC`s smell the smoke of my mic and they fear it
I`m known to be the hanger for the MC`s I hang
I throw a riddle, it come back like a boomerang

[ CHORUS ]
We`re not here to play
We`re just here to spray
This is a
[ all ]
R.A.I.D.
Everybody on the dancefloor
R.A.I.D.
(Woof!)

You gotta know this one

[ VERSE 2: Ganxsta R?dd ]
If knowledge is power, then I`m muscle-bound
Loc`ed out as a hound, I`m not down in a dog pound
Breakin out, MC`s start fakin out
Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., time to start takin out
MC`s come and MC`s go
For all the MC`s that go is too slow for my .44
I peel em at the frontdo` ( *shot* )
(Boo-yaa!) Then I drag em to the backdo`
Then I say, "You want some more, then say no more"
(Why is that?) Because I`m just too hardcore
So you know Ridd packs a .44
Bring on the rap jam and let`s roll

[ CHORUS 2X ]

[ VERSE 3: Ganxsta R?dd ]
(Put Riddler on the roof) cause I shoot the vics
My mission was to shoot straight to the chicks
I filed a contract, not to confess
Found out that the buster had a bullet-proof vest
(So what did you do?) I had nothin to say
Pulled out my Uzi and I started to spray
Went to the morgue to identify his body
(Yeah, that`s him, ??? posse at the party)
I`m not prankster, word to Godfather, I`m a gangsta
And this is the time I`d like to give thanks to
All my brothers for doin it (their way)
And now it`s my way, we`re not here to play
Boo-Yaa - please, who can match?
Like a purse on Imperial (you will get snatched)
And like a Camel in the county (you will get smoked)
And when the Riddler took the loco toll (that was loc`ed)
Check out O.M.B., my bassman, forget the turntable
(Island) the name of my record label
That`s the reason my jams sound so hard
Cause it`s boomin from a bailin car
Down the boulevard and we don`t stop
Cause all you posses get mopped, get dropped
We rock the party, steal all the ladies
Since it`s `89 we`re in the Eighties

[ CHORUS 2X ]

Hit me deuce times
(Woof, woof!)

(Attention, all D.R.
This is a R.A.I.D.)
He-he-he-ha-ha

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