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    T-bone Last Street Preacha текст песни

    Last Street Preacha

    [T-Bone]

    My lyrics phat like Don Cartagena, you never seen a

    Latino Rapper pick up the mic and eat MC’s like gelatine

    From the Bay area down to Argentina

    I be slangin the gospel in crack houses like it was cocina

    Mira mija, la firme linya de rao familia

    No son Gallinas, killin them demons is a misdemeanah

    So we ain’t scared of y’all, we lived above the law

    Now we got pimps, addicts, thugs

    And these hustlas at the altar call

    Prayin, sayin thing like forgive me for my evil ways then

    Get off their knees and be delievered from 12 years of blazin

    Praisin tha Name of Christ, ain’t scared to give my life away

    For the one who died on the cross and saved

    Me when my life was triff, now its alright

    God wrote these lyrics, peep the copyright

    Buildin an army in a world that dark, so we can bring the light

    Raisin veteranos Cristianos that we call hermanos

    Deadly like rattle snakes but worse when mics are in our manos

    In my cara, no dicen nada, puro Amenasadas

    Wack envyous rappers wanna bite like a thousand paranhas

    I bring tha heat like a thousand sauna

    Filled wit Cubana mammas from Havana

    Oye como va, when I rock like Santana

    [Chorus]

    One of the last street preachas left, poet assasin [what]

    Scarface in the flesh, straight ou the west

    Where they ride on their enemies

    Striptease, pour out liqour for tha diseased

    And jack for car keys

    [x2]

    [T-Bone]

    I stay humble and meak

    Get on my knees and wash my brethern’s feet

    You quick to speak and judge, I quick to turn the other cheek

    Forgive my foes, 479 times and add 11

    Just to equal 70 times 7, Rap Reverend

    Preachin, sermons to those thugs livin

    Killin, sinnin, feelin that they can be forgiven

    Ghetto prison is where they livin, so I make incisions

    Cut to the heart, then operate tell em tha sons Arizon

    If you ain gettin what I be spittin

    Get me grab my weapons

    Sawed off K.J.V. wit 66 bullets made for hittin

    Straight to the heart, we wrestle not against flesh and blood

    Saved thugs, blastin thugs wit God’s love

    Pump pump you get stucked when I dump

    Sawed off, the old man get’s hualed off

    And thats the way its comin out the west side

    Yo I’m preachin Jesus Christ crucified

    [Chorus]

    [T-Bone]

    What up mamma, its that Rap Papa

    Don Dadda, the one who used to smoke grama

    From Nicaragua, sip champana, hollerin ay caramba

    Now Ima redeemed hoodlum tellin em Cristo te ama

    Ima bring the drama like Tony Montana

    Cuz when demons step to me

    They get cut worse then shrimp at BenniHannas

    Back in the days hittin weed, smokin roaches

    But we ain’t no playas, tellin why, we some coaches

    I get ferocious then I bury all you cockroaches

    Get bent of the Holy Ghost and take it by the doses

    A super-california-lyricist-p-alidocious

    Bibles in my holsters, seen me on the posters

    Devil outlined in chalk, I walk the walk and talk the talk

    Jehovah knows this

    Being a Christians on a day 2 day forget the half way

    Cant holler praise the LORD, then smoke and sip the alizay

    Or tangaree or you’ll get blown up like a hand gernade

    I ain’t afraid, I slit the devil’s throat wit my switch blade

    [Chorus]



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