Текст песни «Intro» — A.G.

Текст песни «Intro» из альбома 2007 года «We're All Disturbed!» A.G..


Check me out, get dirty
I spit flames and got games to seduce your momma
Wanna catch feelings then use the llama, my shit’ll go through your armor
Every word is deadly like the Unabomber
And even at age 9 I was king like Tutankhamen
It’s 90 bars of heat, I’m harsh on beats
Got guns to make you squash the beef, knuckle up and guard your teeth
Or pose and throw dose like Leon Spinks
The type to burn money money, then pee on minks
Trick a G on drinks, three G’s on links
My medallion’s off the milk truck, and my gat still buck
Shorty with the baddest attitude see that’s the one that will f**k
I’m legendary already, rock the Pelle and «Drop it Heavy»
For my mob I go all out, the Don stay flossed out
It’s a fact that we keep cocked gats, foes get crossed out
We took the relish, fellas you lost out
You the type of nigga that’s all mouth, type of nigga I call out
Drama I know my crew’ll shoot, you shoulda knew the scoop
Niggaz couldn’t f**k around, with they dick in the hula hoop
Give the God room, my verbals sharp like harpoons
Plus the Don hard to see like weed smoke in dark rooms
My nigga A, where you at, this is «Dirty Version»
G.D. nigga, bout to step up and rep, B-X baby
This is Don year, you hear? Word up We got the block liddocked, glock ciddocked
Too smooth to get kniddocked, launder the dough through hip-hop
Rocks chiddock, bottles packed to the tip-top
Stay fly and high to pocket gridlock
Diamond chip watch at 20 a chock and a shot of scotch
Drizzy in the club, watchin a nigga with the ox Professional haters, y’all cats can rest with the greatest
I rock the family to sleep, send 'em to bed with Sammy Davis
I spit those awkward flows, cruisin in a Porsche slow
Floss the dough like Ross Perot fo' sho' motherf**kers
Frontin like you want the ruckus, nuttin but a bunch of busters
G.D. we smoke tons of dutches
Or Garcia Vegas, my squad be in Vegas while y’all bein haters
Catch me at the bar with the players
Some niggaz rock Armani and gators, we get dirty
G.D. shirts, Timbs, doo-rag under my derby
Yo this is the dirt that rock the party
Party Arty and my niggaz D-Flow, word up Everytime we step up we represent and get dirty
Word up, who you be nigga?
P, touch niggaz like masturbation, with no procrastinatin
Cause a nigga like me mad impatient
Facin double life cause I tried to blast the nation
Worldwide assassination, ain’t Muslim or Mason
God against Satan, no fakin, grab the mic with the glove like Gary Payton
And drop 30 with 10 assists then reminisce
Party Arty the wrong nigga that you in against
Gettin rich with benefits to hit yo' bitch with the dick
Shit is sick how niggaz snitch and Tone gone
Can’t stress that, so Finesse tracks is what I zone on
f**k them in his name, see, stuck in the game
Tryin to get out, that’s when I flip out, and put the hit out
I’m the dirt that rock the party ya hardly can guard me I roll with, Party and the sound of God Body
D-Flow's down with the mob probably, not a problem
Just watchin these other niggaz get sloppy, bet they lock me for armed robbery
Before I starve papi, come out on parole
Go gold, tell my story on Hard Copy — tune in and check me out
Drop hits consecutive, to get executive
Flip the predicate, then spit some better shit
Ditect the hidden messages, and the lesson is that God, know it all
Take a G to a titty bar (and blow it all)

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