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    Saafir the Saucee Nomad »

    Saafir the Saucee Nomad The Hit List текст песни

    The Hit List

    Featuring Sonnie Black
    Huh yeah yeah. Saafir in the house youknowhatI’msayin’? Layin’ it down with
    My nigga Sonnie Black. About to spit this shit to you. You might be on this
    Motherfucker man. You know?

    Since the death of the first two icons I be wonderin’
    Who’s gonna be the next to plummet in the dirt
    Somebody is puttin’ in major work
    And drop the line of these top the line rhymer you know who was the first
    And the second MC
    The shit temps me
    To keep practicing my aim at the shooting range
    And keep my vest
    In close range to my chest
    Say a prayer to the game
    Cause she won’t be the same after this
    I heard they
    Who is they?
    I don’t know
    But you know what they say
    Don’t believe it till you see it
    But now I peep the Ebony special Big Daddy Dane or Super Nat
    Death’s comin’ three and the shit is startin’ to worry me (why?)
    Cause this shit got to be connected to a much deeper plot
    Maybe the government is fillin’ it
    Since they see them taxes of these millionaire black men rappin’
    Imagin’ if they got fed up and attached a contract
    To touch these pathetic lips
    Believe me
    It would be called

    The Hit List
    But it never happens to you if you’re hitless
    So you better stay sharp in you mental fitness
    And always holla at your follies about business
    What is this? The Hit List

    The newspapers read
    «De La Soul Is Dead»
    The Stakes Is Higher than Hell fire
    Shocking news travels like a live wire
    To the Mississippi connect
    Brought in from a club bathroom
    Bartender slipped him a Mickey
    Everybody in hip hop is trigger itchy
    One of the Pharcyde got smoked in a hotel in Perkipsey
    Upstate with no backin’ I’m packin’ heat
    Like an immigrant work Nike factory
    I feel like somebody is watchin’ me
    I got eyes in the back of my head and under my balls
    Cassette from outside bathroom door stall
    Watchin’ my back without a pause
    Scarface in Houston tryin’ not to catch a bullet scar
    Ridin’ to the studio in bulletproof cars
    ATF had a shootout ? wait with FaceMob
    A cashier worker and a grocery bagger was tagged up
    Body bagged up
    Pedestrians meeting the concrete
    Gettin’ faces and body parts scrapped up
    Face Mob swervin’ through as they may ? (screeching)


    Sonnie Black:
    What is this the Hit List
    The Hit List some sick shit over glove shit
    Mr. Sonnie Black the fly ass tracks jack
    You slippin’ like bait on a fishing rod
    I’m tryin’ to manipulate your fate
    I’m tryin’ to get you God
    Cause you tailored my made me good and plenty
    Your soldiers turned GI Jane more (Moore) than Demi
    Keep your hustle on kinko
    God got blessings to give me

    On Remy and a night chair
    Spit my plot to my partners and hoes sittin’ around in nightwear
    Crackin’ a window a slight air
    A nigga feel twisted
    The story
    The Hit List

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