Killa-Kc - First 1 in,Last 1 Out текст песни

feat.Obie Trice,Stat Quo,& Dmx

Killa-Kc:
(I heard Sam was going solo) God damn, you didn't know so,
well I can blast fast so freak an ill type of slow flow.
I'm hitting harder than Berry Boss so check the golden child,
throwing it to your ear-hole, got you going buck wild.
But truck-tracks, rhymes all day, breaking off niggaz proper,
did dirt, did West cause I clown coppers (yeah).
Do hip-hop, rap, compose 'em most, I couldn't see me,
mad advanced and my skills are all about the dollar bills.

Obie Trice:
From Pittsburgh to Cali dropping bombs like that,
was on the D.L. with the squad so I couldn't hold it back.
Black, I regulate I buzz a big gate figure,
mobbing with the ill nigga, with his finger on a bigger trigger.
Serving all (saps), hitting sevens on the (simps),
making do', eating shrimps, locing with some real pimps (yeah).
So peep game, best believe I love my peeps

Stat Quo:
that's why I make the type of music you can pump in your jeeps
(that's right).
So buck my sound, I put it down for the underground,
I got the women cause I'm slamming, jamming.
Got it going on this time for this new producer to rise,
so open your eyes, I think you better recognize.

Dmx:
We back, we mack, stay blunted
Knee pads, yo hoes they wanted
Penthouse two o'clock eleven hundred
It aint no fun if I can't reroute your hoes in this direction
Swerve in the intersection, I'm done she restin
No question, done session
Home wreckin, Doc motherfuckin Dre no guessin
Nothin less than, I mess when I'm sexin
Bang on the block
Even Asian bitches like to bang cock
Draws drop, she bunny hops
On it like a pro, she comes out the clothes