Lyrics:
Hate to tell you, baby, hate to tell you ba-a-by
Hate to tell you, baby, that I don't love you
Hate to tell you, babe, I can't put no one else above you
Znów o streecie słyszę fałsz by się sprzedawać
'Thug Life' nie ich świat i gdzie jest prawda
Tytuły singli wymyślone by sprzedać koszulki
Wyczuli zyski
when that Wu-Tang rocked wishing hip Hop
Come on back to me
All' them opportunities I let Go by all' them days lost getting high
Come on back to me
You say that you love me
Yeah
You say that you love me
Walkin' right by new stranger pass me like I don't know ya
Put it all in the past, saying one
demonstrant
Dej ruce up jako bys byl brankář
Dej ruce up jako bys doma vstával
Dej ruce uuuup
Když jsem na micu - revoluce
Když jsem na stagi - horeruce
right!
So what ya life like?
Mine.....type nice like come off the white ice,
You...bum ass night fights! KILLA!
[HOOK]
[Verse 3: Cam'Ron]
Ayo I'm proving
thinking the same thing
Well I was approached by a whole damn group of them
Rhyme thieves, biters, and bums
Took me kind of light, said they wanted
chciał, chciałbym, byś mógł
Wiesz, że nie dziś, ale daję ci bum
Nadzieję, wiarę, nowy sens i rozum
Daję ci bum w imię hip-hopu
HiFi dwa, wkrótce, patrz,
Joe Hill wrote a song for the
Free speech fight of uh, 1910
And it was introduced on the streets
Of Spokane by Haywire MacMclintok
Him what, He was
slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out,
Robimy to gówno by dotrzymać w życiu kroku
Aby zachować spokój w mieście bez uroku
Wersy pętle są formą buntu
Ten syf baby stoi wyżej od funtów
Jedyna w
Orleans whoadie duckin' them Warrants
You get stung by my MAC like a batch of Hornets
Time is splurge like the San Antonio Spurs
I got rings like a Laker
confined
I can't see
Son's mind like a bum knee
Mine's number one he
Left you tongue tied
One time
Go out on my roof
Go out on my roof
I just go out
puttin' they hands on these bums
I don't be touchin' 'em (Nope)
I don't know wherе they pussy been
I don't be fuckin' 'em (Goofy)
Bitchеs call me boss
You
Walk up in dat bit' too clean, I'm froze
They don't fight you where I'm from
Like the beat, I keep a drum
You ain't got dough lil' boy, you a bum
She
Walk up in dat bit' too clean, I'm froze
They don't fight you where I'm from
Like the beat, I keep a drum
You ain't got dough lil' boy, you a bum
She
Kool-Aid gives you hella 151 November dog so run kitty run
We gon' drink it until we dumb-ditty-dumb, bum-bitty-bum
Here Kansas City come so give me some
Smokin' Backwoods and moving bags
I was getting protected by my savages
Yellow school buses that's a Xany
Causing me to sleep and I ain't plan it (yee
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
nigga come up and pull up on your block
Want a rich nigga come up and pull up on your block
Bum bum, tell her get out that Honda (let's go unh!)
Girl
Good times and bum times, I've seen them all
And, my dear, I'm still here
Plush velvet sometimes
Sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I'm here
1 By 1 By 1 By 1
Aim Laga
Ungali Chala
Carrom Zara
Karde Garam
Aim Laga
Ungali Chala
Carrom Zara
Karde Garam
Le Ke Striker
Sti Sti Striker
Le Ke
Powiedz jeśli umiesz
Ile chwil jeszcze zostało nam
By składać cały świat
Który buduje każdy na spokojnie
Przyszłość drzemie w wyobraźni
Za sobą setki
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall
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