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T-Bone - True 2 Life Playas Lyrics |
| Submitted by: AUTO-ADD |
| Current Rating: None | Kinda life tha mafia if you ask me, who's that? All of them ridas from ORC, why's that?
Cuz we bad like 3 strikers when we spit rhymes and preach to street bikers, or convicts in ricers,
There never ain't no telling what we gonna do, cuz when you think we through, we come back hit you,
Wit another hit, ain't no stopping me and my gang, BoneyBone Corleone from the MTV cut fame,
Same rapper and same rider, Westsider, only difference is my beat's and rhymes tighter, that's real,
Now throw in tha sky if you down wit me, I represent that organized rhyme family, family tree consist of demon killas,
Reaching drug dealers and top billas making scrilla, livin' in white villas,
Using guerilla tactics to reach crypts and bloods and all tha thugs that are looking for love.
We's them rhyme sayers, true 2 life playas, dippin' in navigators not trippin' on all you haters,
Making rider music strictly for tha Creator, wit more game from tha bay than the Oakland Raiders.
From tha land of Chuck Taylors, khaki wearers and gang bangers, where rap sangers lowride and talk about 'em colored bandanas,
Ducking from one time, California sunshine, projects and streets infested wit thugs that are doing major crimes,
Primetime couldn't paint a better picture, best beware of them locs and O.G.'s for them thugs hit ya,
Cuz where we from it's straight scandalous, Los Angeles, ain't too many players or ridas that can handle us,
Slugs flying in every direction you look, got homeless people living under bridges and drug addicts hooked, ain't this a shame,
That's why me and my gang preachin', like deacons, to bloods, crips, Latinos, Blacks and Puerto Ricans,
Every weekend we be speakin' and preachin', teachin', how we need to be reachin' tha heathen, sleepin' while tha devils creepin',
Meetin' to put these suckas names on contracts, and lift up and raise up tha King of kings like a car jack!
We's them rhyme sayers, true 2 life playas, dippin' in navigators not trippin' on all you haters,
Making rider music strictly for tha Creator, wit more game from tha bay than the Oakland Raiders.
We making moves like a U-Haul, playa haters don't get it twisted like Ru Paul, we don G's and family,
That stick together like Siamese twins, and Chinese steam rice from Chang Lee's, I'm tha, Bone Corleone wit Lucky Louchiano,
Kevin Blanco and Mr. Danny Brasco, E-Doggie Montana from Nicaragua, my little patna that we be calling Jimi Hoffa,
Can't forget about Chase Gigante, cuz when I rhyme say he makes 'em beats bomb bay, hot like picante,
This is tha click that I be talking about, so if you ain't down wit us then back up before you get clowned. |
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