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Versuri Luniz F/ Knuckle Head Eclipse - Broke Niggaz
Versuri-versuri.ro > Versuri Litera L > Versuri Luniz F/ Knuckle Head Eclipse > Miscellaneous - Broke NiggazChorus *(Yukmouth)* 
 
 Broke niggas make the best crooks 
 ya best look 
 over your shoulder 
 if you's a Highroller 
 (broke mutha fuckas they make the best crooks) 
 (broke mutha fuckas they make the best crooks) 
 
 Verse 1 *(Knumskull)* 
 
 Let's see how your vest look 
 see if it fits ya 
 picture four hideous hustlas 
 quick to lick the silliest bustas 
 I played the roll 
 and ready to fold 
 fix bitches in gold 
 is a no-no 
 livin low like De La Soul 
 it's the "O" 
 and the folks don't understand 
 yes you can 
 rush, shake the van 
 and catch the Ice Cream Man 
 they know me 
 as the loyal citizen 
 the boy who visited 
 hot 
 but on the spot 
 I'm more chillier than Dennis-in 
 finishin up my zip 
 quick to make my grip 
 you fuck around and get licked 
 by the Luni click 
 so that means bitches can't fade me 
 fuck lobster 
 I'm fuckin up yo monkey like the monsta on Aliens 
 I got work 
 someone told Knumskullin 
 rollin 
 four man deep 
 in a stolen jeep 
 wit heat 
 keep the space between niggas and me ever 
 What? Ballin outta control??!! 
 Nah, petty theivin 
 leavin no evidence or clues 
 bitch you gets a date wit yo moms 
 but you gets robbed by the Luniz fool 
 if I was a bum 
 I'd be straight to ride out 
 fuck a piece of the pie 
 I take the whole cake and sky out. 
 
 *(chorus)* x1 
 
 Verse 2 *(Knuckle Head)* 
 
 Knuckle Head 
 fool wit that master plan 
 yeah 
 got my glock caulked 
 wit my yay in my hand 
 understand 
 I'm bigger than 
 fourth indo man 
 that rappin nigga also known as Mr. Window Man 
 cuz when I roll 
 nigga I rolls deep 
 I be killin mutha fuckas in they sleep 
 So punk P! 
 The situation is I skipped it 
 no set trip 
 got the glock caulked 
 keepin the tech on the hip 
 like a pro 
 deep up on the slope 
 pick up the pace 
 wit no time to waste 
 put my gun to his fuckin face 
 action-packed wit my shit 
 it's the poetry 
 kickin this psycho shit 
 wit my click 
 so you knows of me 
 it's goin down 
 I'm all about my mail 
 wit my g's 
 flipped from keys 
 equals dope I'm a sale 
 client-tell 
 got me on top wit raps a crook 
 but all you ever get 
 is cum in yo little lungs 
 so mutha fuckas took they last look 
 (I'm broke, I'm sellin check books) 
 cuz broke niggas make the best crooks. 
 
 *(chorus)* x1 
 
 *(Yukmouth talking)* 
 
 Eh bail, look who that? Who the fuck is that? 
 
 *(Dope man talking)* 
 
 You're cocaine, give it to me. Now! 
 
 *(Yukmouth)* 
 
 What the fuck you? You must be snortin some shit or something. 
 (What the fuck is that?!) 
 
 *(yelling and screaming in back)* 
 
 *(Knumskull talking)* 
 
 Let's go turn off all the lights 
 and make it seem like no ones home 
 niggas comin from the Eastside 
 bout to hoo ride and get stole. 
 
 Verse 3 *(Eclipse)* 
 
 See the whole thang was a plot 
 cuz that bitch you got, she gave me the scoop 
 12 o'clock 
 Lexus coupe 
 fill it up wit hella loot 
 since your neighbors are all in my business 
 you niggas don't need to know who the fuck this is 
 juss throw on a ski mask 
 and then I dash 
 this my last visit 
 and then I'm outtie 
 350 prob'ley 
 you niggas scared 
 don't stop me 
 I'm a pro 
 when it comes to gangsta robberies 
 the Paraphanalia 
 the niggas 
 the killas 
 the Mobb 
 the riggas 
 the skrilla 
 the dealas is doin they job 
 Eclipse 
 keeps clips 
 (So don't you make 'em wanna blast nigga) 
 I'd rather jack yo ass nigga 
 than be a broke ass nigga. 
 
 *(chorus)* x1 
 
 Verse 4 *(Yukmouth)* 
 
 Dope fiends in the kitchen 
 smokin on a pipe 
 hustlas on the corner 
 shootin dice 
 all of my folks in jail 
 raisin hell 
 got bitches on the whole stroll 
 sellin fruit cocktales 
 to clock mail 
 fuck pimps 
 ballas 
 shot callas 
 all of us gots to get our money on 
 Oakland be's no joke 
 it ain't no mutha fuckin funny bone 
 sky out to your Honey Comb Hideout 
 Money gone! 
 pullin capers on fakes 
 erase your papers like white out 
 ain't no tryouts 
 or basketball sports 
 juss a crazy horse 
 my four-fifth strapped when shootin craps on the porch 
 back and fourth 
 like Cameo 
 I'm always Death Row 
 even though I try 
 I can't let go 
 like Mariah 
 Carry the four-fiver 
 to blow shit up like Maguyver 
 me be steadily Mobbin an robbin a cab driver 
 either be a broke ass 
 no cash 
 havin your doe on 
 I float on 
 break more niggas than Ozone 
 what 
 really goes on 
 hops 
 the props I must 
 clock 
 hearin no glock 
 will have that ass holdin like buckshots 
 fuck cops 
 I post on the block slangin crack-noid 
 avoid being broke 
 I'm tradin places wit Dan Akroyd 
 
 *(chorus)* x1
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