Текст (слова) песни: Hell Razah f 7th Ambassador, Bambue - B.B.P. (Business Before Pleasure)

 
[Intro: Hell Razah (Bambue) {7th Ambassador}] 
B.B.P., in the Bronx, B.B.P. (Yo, uh) {what, what} 
 
[7th Ambassador] 
My commitee of six`ll sick in the flip 
Switch in the nines, and pull out knives 
Hit the five boroughs at one time 
We really never like being confined 
That`s why we speak about trees in our rhyme 
That type of shit, eases our mind 
In a everyday struggle, in the jungle 
Hash was a hustle and niggas be bad to touch you 
If you don`t have the muscle in this modern day, cash or trouble 
You heard Biggie`s ass rebuttal, the Mo the Money, the Mo the Problems 
More ways for me to solve `em, more gats keep revolvin` 
So what you talkin`?, you ain`t doin` nothin` but offerin` 
My little shorties a coffin, claimin` you a master of a world you lost in 
Down the mean streets, BX to Compton 
Who you crossin`, dunn get caught walkin` 
On the wrong side of the margin, when shit spray 
Like somethin` they made for dodgin` 
It`s all big rims, you mean to floss it 
 
[Chorus 2.5X: Hell Razah (Bambue)] 
Bitches come, bitches go 
Never trust a ho 
Business Before Pleasure, cuz they out to get ya dough 
 
(Niggas come, niggas go, fuck all ya dough 
If I`m a bitch and I`m a ho 
Then I`mma go and get my own) 
 
[Hell Razah] 
On the block, crack spot watch in front of the cops 
He made careers outta corners for his Rolex watch 
Up in clubs, straight lick-up, past bitches and sons 
Every Sunday at the Tunnel takin` pictures wit thugs 
Shorty lookin` in my face like she fallin` in love 
Yea, I eat meat, close it `for the chew in the cut 
Like I`m at a drive a wagon, like you flyin` his rug 
Up in cabin, smoke trees in the jacuzzi tub, what 
Niggas front, you get uzzi slugs, you be a who-he-was 
We ain`t never really give a fuck, son, who he was 
+Business Before Pleasure+ forever 
I got tracks road for all winters, I`m clever 
I`m not ya everyday stereotype 
I`m more like one of those Hebrew-Israelites, that rock mics 
Boogie in jails, startin` up riots and fights 
First convict to come home, we be thinkin` a like 
Sex for ice, nowadays love got a price 
I`m used to have more than one wife, singin` me paradise 
I`m pretty shinin` tight, home Friday night 
Burn til she hitchhike, we Dick Van Dykes 
 
[Chorus 3X] 
 
[Bambue] 
Aiyo, I`m sick of these fake thugs 
Sick of these fake grimeys sellin` drugs 
I`m sick of these fake thugs bustin` slugs 
Sick of them fake bastards that be after my dough 
I`m sick of the +Fake MC`s+ who claim they mastered the flow 
Sick of the fake producers, sick of the fake fiends who claim they boosters 
Sick of the fake niggas who didn`t choose us 
Sick of the fake labels, sick of the A&R`s 
Sick of the fake rappers that they be claimin` stars 
Sick of the fake beats, sick of these fake talkers claimin` peace 
Sick of the West Coast, sick of the East 
Sick of the fat fatties, takin` so long to blow up 
So sick of this bullshit, that I`m bout to throw up
 

Другие песни Hell Razah f 7th Ambassador, Bambue :

B.B.P. (Business Before Pleasure)