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Testi Street Smartz - F It Less
Testi-musica-canzoni.it > Testi lettera S > Street Smartz > F It Less 12 - F It LessVerse 1:  
 Yo  yo  you can let the magnum bust  
 Or puff bags of dust  
 If you mad at us  
 Watch that ass get crushed  
 Now you screamin why did the blood have to rush  
 There's a buncha thugs after us  
 Slugs blast at us  
 Son roll this dutch master up  
 The nigga with the live weapons  
 Yo  who got shorties runnin  
 They comin in 5 seconds  
 Givin back shots  attack spots  
 Fat knots  
 I rap hop like clack glocks  
 Disrespect this and get disconnect  
 This spray like disinfected  
 I paractice safe sex so my dick's protected  
 F hold the cap well  
 Puffin fat l's bonin a chicks listenin to Maxwell  
 On a maxell my man call me on the black cell  
 Told me he got bagged for a crack-sell  
 "How you feelin son?"  
 "Not that well"  
 Niggas is bustin tecs and shit  
 And no matter what sexe you is  
 Behind your back niggas will sex yo' whip  
 Make you wonder where the exit is  
 Fuc That cuttin no slack  
 I'm bustin fat nuts on yo' back  
  
 Chorus x3:  
 Yo, what it look like  
 You got crack what it cook like  
 You got a track what the hook like  
 F is off the hook, right?  
 We stole cars while you took bikes  
 And on a good night I get your whole hood sniped  
  
 Verse 2:  
 You's a halfthug  
 Meetin ya dick in the bathtub  
 I get mad love  
 Do a crime woke ya backup?  
 Roll in the set  
 Put a hole in ya chest  
 Open ya flesh  
 Knowin the best  
 No one can test  
 I'm blowin ya vest  
 Untill I die I be high of drugs  
 Money bought me everything but couldn't buy me love  
 My niggas blast and shoot shit  
 From here to Massachussets  
 The cash be ruthless  
 That's why your ass is toothless  
 You ain't half as ill as the admirill  
 You a crab for real nigga, grab your shield  
 Rappers wanna kill me and blast me  
 Cause my rhymes is Filthy McNasty  
 While other niggas is silky and sassy  
 Upset your squad I never wet you God  
 Y'all niggas ain't worth a $1.50 on the metrocar  
 Fuc That  
 I bust caps  
 Chill on the side like hop cats  
 Never leave home without the rough raps  
 Paper I got to touch that  
 You want bitches I want track  
  
 Chores x2  
  
 Verse 3:  
 Yo, I role this hoe that will set you up to take your check  
 Them niggas that make you pet, to break your neck  
 Her mind was the dirtiest  
 Ever since her pops died on the 30st  
 She was livin the life of unworthiness  
 Her name was Karin  
 She drove a black LeBaron  
 And by the way, she used to sell packs of tracks with Aaron and Tyrone  
 Doin anything to be in the live zone  
 Like smoke five bones or rob the jewelery store for nine stones  
 Attack your town pack a cab  
 Smack a clown  
 Back 'em down like Jackie Brown  
 You never had skill  
 I'm mad ill like a overdose of Adville  
 Kill at will  
  
 Chorus x2  
  
 Noreaga "The invincible, untouchable"  
 OC "Fuc That, abbreviated F.T."  
 Nas "Streets disciple, I rock beats that's make 'em trifle
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