статистика каталог исполнителей песен  
песни: 61179
группы: 12214
  • A
  • B
  • C
  • D
  • E
  • F
  • G
  • H
  • I
  • J
  • K
  • L
  • M
  • N
  • O
  • P
  • Q
  • R
  • S
  • T
  • U
  • V
  • W
  • X
  • Y
  • Z
  • А
  • Б
  • В
  • Г
  • Д
  • Е
  • Ж
  • З
  • И
  • К
  • Л
  • М
  • Н
  • О
  • П
  • Р
  • С
  • Т
  • У
  • Ф
  • Х
  • Ц
  • Ч
  • Ш
  • Щ
  • Э
  • Ю
  • Я

  • В сети

    Популярные исполнители:

    Discarica Abusiva
    Murphy Joe
    Pharrell Williams
    The Buck Owen's Buckaroos
    Finnegan Larry
    Connor T
    Настя Полева
    Faith Hill & Larry Stewart
    Freedom Of Thought
    Johnny Logan
    Sergey Lazarev
    Бабаджанян Арно
    Jack Mcgann
    Misc Computer Games
    Jacques Renard
    Eric B. & Rakim
    Robin Luke
    Passion With Matt Redman
    Money Eddie
    Radio Racer
    Кузьмина Софья
    Die Sterne
    Sugar Jones
    Nate Dogg & Daz
    Черный Лукич
    What About Chad
    Mendoza Amalia
    Paulina Rubio
    Wet Desert
    RZA »

    RZA Do u текст песни

    Do u

    From: mack10 mack10@amik.ru

    [Intro: RZA (Method Man)]
    Come on my niggas, yo..
    Put your guns in your right hand and hold it down towards the floor
    Point all your guns down towards the floor for a minute
    Yeah, you could hold ‘em, just point ‘em down towards the floor
    For a sec, aight? (Yo y’all ain’t fuckin’ wit the Wu)
    We gon’ splash like this, all my wild Digi heads
    (Y’all niggas is crook) Y’all niggas move a little up to the front
    Y’all niggas know what I’m talkin’ about
    Word up, my weedheads, y’all play the right for a second
    Nahmean? Check it out
    All y’all niggas on X, y’all keep y’all asses in the back
    Aight? Straight up, in fact, matter of fact
    We gon’ mingle this shit like mothafuckin’ peas in the mothafuckin’ pot
    Straight up Digi Digi style, word up, as we splash you right
    (Yeah, yeah, my niggas is crew, now y’all ain’t
    fuckin’ wit the Wu
    Oh now y’all.. come on!)
    Walk wit a didi bop ock, you silly pop, Jiffy Pop
    Fuck around, son, I’ll blow ya face up with fifty shots
    Sharp darts, and it pop pop like tarts
    Extreme speed like Anakin inside the Pod
    Headed for the finish line, BOODOO, watch Bobby cross it
    Hoes with the diamonds on your toes, come on and floss it
    I be one of those tall skinny cats with the four-nine
    Three-eleven that rips through Power-U’s and breaks spines
    I culture power-tuggin’ boys who be drunk, buggin’
    Lovin’ loud noise from toys, club thuggin’
    Sweet chocolate deluxe, rugged, sexy buttercup
    That don’t give a fuck about the cop in the club
    Or the bouncer with the flashlight, one walked passed, right?
    Some pulled the razor and chopped his ear like he was Mad Mike
    I played the cipher in the corner, teachin’ math
    One for one thoughts, a hundred brothers won’t last
    Because you can’t do me.. (x3)

    «Do U feel?»

    Come on!

    Yo, son, +Wake Up+! {*coughs*}
    Yo, I gotta do this, man
    I gotta get this money, son

    Features in the crowd, appearance like, «Black I’m proud»
    In the background, no sounds, four pound, we hold ground!
    Brooklyn bound, seven initials up in the crown
    One man’s ramblin’, officials they shot him down
    Supreme, extreme, lean, killin’ machines
    All I wanna do is feed my seed, plus my team
    Keep it logical, no games, straight up about Prodigal
    Diabolic drums and I run from none
    Testimony one, give my life before my only son
    Thelonious crumbs, why they wanna press me for guns?
    Now I’m in the face of the judge, court case thug
    From a race, laced, based on drugs, some made slugs
    As +It Was Written+, stroll through any block forbidden
    Glock hidden, why they wanna stop precision?
    Eighty-five percent of my brothers locked in prison
    And we just keep dyin’ for the love of good livin’
    But Do U! Do U! Do U!

    «Do U feel?» (x2)

    You know those jams in the park, produced the spark
    Made me feel words how I read books in the dark
    I always took it to heart, loved the art
    A lifetime of darts, ripped crews apart
    Made their stay real short, I stamped the passport
    Couldn’t bring through no wack shit of no sort
    I walked the borough challengin’ the best that stood
    Torch metal mics, they conduct better than wood
    Once I electrify and only expect to die
    Rounded Bed-Stuy, ZZZZ, nigga fry
    My opponent block, the beat comin’ from his box
    Investment ranker who’s a joke in the stocks
    Keep a rhythmic pace, maintainin’ great balance
    Movin’ in steps of unheard of silence
    Normally progressioners, they’re slow steepin’
    Niggas wanna light up when there’s gas leakin’

    «Do U feel?»

    Форма обратной связи