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• Artiste: Sun God
• Titre: Street Opera
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Sun God get 'em I stay far from my opponents, pardon me dogs That's why lead the call, they moving up on us But them G's on the corners, move when I move That's a warning, or I'mma have my goons spin a garment Think it's sweet, and try to creep or run up on us They get deeper than twelve foot, and you be leaking out of order Don't beef, if you ain't beefin' for no quarters 'cause pain is money, you float funny when you surfin' the water I'm that dude slangin' pack by the border I love my life, I live it twice, 'cause it's up to me sorta You a fool with a mental disorder, and it's probably your daughter That really love me, for the **** that I taught her Will Smith on the guest list, pops is the king I'm the fresh prince, forty oil tune, kick ya chest in Us that got the universe confession, pardon your dame I'm new to the game, but true to my lessons Jeans, hoods, ****, **** Visions of me swallowing ****, being chased by jake And the sound of the razor keep hitting the plate And tooters is flab with ****, with **** and them jeans We chew through it, like we coming down off **** And my P.O., she half Creole, I move from Philly to Dallas With true talent, like my name is T.O. So when I ****, I gotta **** slow, she know I kick them Vasine bottles 'cause if I'm dirty, I ain't letting it go Your project steps is Ajax down, dry blood Maintenance men with the scrub brush, scraping the ground Diapers, baby rattles and broke lighters, I led many Horses to water, just to see if they like it Taste my, Betty Crock', ready rock, bet he cock, now News flash, my **** ridin' L, laid a cop down Any of ya **** want beef, I will stop clowns I got a bad ox' fifth, now how the **** sound? Jeans, hoods, guns **** Aiyo, what up S.G.? Aiyo, what's poppin' my **** I'm just oil in the ****, exercising my trigger Finger, I've got the biggest ****, yeah, I got a crispy stainless Your mans ain't **** those hoes, they just a bunch of gamers Them head shots, neck shots, probably blow they brains in I'm so close to the edge, pushin' they **** face in I bet you now, them mutha**** really start complaining No hesitation, my reputation'll leave 'em chaining We go hard, like the NARC's when we start invading I copped the license and registration, to cock and aiming It's all entertainment and all my **** made it We hard body like Wu-Tang and Iron Maiden I keep the **** blazing, hands hurt Like a **** when she putting braids in, I think it's so amazing We ran **** for hours, up in the Days Inn Hood rats and **** motels, we seen baking Jeans, hoods, guns, **** Good