Song | Death Choir |
Artist | Chief Kamachi |
Album | The Concrete Gospel |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Dan, Lamont, Littlepage | |
Yeah-yeah, sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I didn't waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don't really care | |
Yo, don't learn shit in school just wanna choke the teacher | |
Back on the block all I see is dope and reefer | |
I wave at the Reverend he ain't righteous either | |
He a fiend on the low shootin' blow wit Meeka | |
Yeah it's a crazy world, see how a baby curl | |
When there's crack in the pregnant stomach of a baby girl | |
Neglected offsprings end of the zone | |
Single mother in the welfare instead of alone | |
Pops smokin' up the money, ain't no food on the home | |
Now they callin' collect back in jail on the phone | |
The kid's starvin', kill for everything that he owned | |
It get real hard, body showin' nothin' but bones | |
Smell the death, shirt sprayed wit the bullet colognes | |
Kneel down, pray on the trigger when pullin' the chromes | |
So twisted, love the sound of funeral tones | |
We so stressed out, got a smoke a few to dome | |
C'mon... | |
Yeah-yeah, sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I didn't waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don't really care | |
Old babe slang weed outta bribes stay on the porch | |
On the corner, youngstaz rollin' the dice, stay wit the torch | |
My nigga 6-foot like to hoop at the court | |
Died at the hands of a crooked cop, excessive wit force | |
Abusive marriage to the block where we get the divorce | |
It's like storm after storm but we weather the course | |
Yeah, up to a certain extent | |
But we look all high stumblin' on the corner, we bent | |
Dodgin' shots, unsuccessful murder attempts | |
When it's time to go nobody is prefered or exempt | |
Heaven or Hell gots thermometer takin' ya temp | |
If it's hot then you go below | |
If it's cold Mount Everest glaciars of snow | |
I go the penalty, look at my face on the road | |
I'm in the outside prison that's restrictin' my flow | |
That's why I smoke weed like I'm free basin' the dro | |
Yeah-yeah, sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I didn't waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don't really care | |
Yo, stick-up kids is out to tax | |
Caskets stacked for that white snow and plastic wrap | |
These the bul troops to help you make classic raps | |
Project pissin' hallways full of nasty rats | |
All the pain and the glory, shame in the story | |
How a nigga gettin' slained on the train for his jewelry | |
It's still the same sin in these locations | |
After all these years of prayers and invocation | |
They like the invisble man beggin' for donations | |
They want me to go to war screamin' 'DEFEND YOUR NATION!' | |
Burn the flag, **** Bush the fag | |
I'm in squalor, can't put my hands on the ten dollar bag | |
Dreams of being a big boy wit a Colombian tag | |
So grimey eat the dead man in the crab | |
So slimey turn ya head then you get stabbed | |
Go head and try me, cuz so many that had | |
Yeah-yeah, sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the 'Death Choir' | |
I didn't waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don't really care |
zuo qu : Dan, Lamont, Littlepage | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Yo, don' t learn shit in school just wanna choke the teacher | |
Back on the block all I see is dope and reefer | |
I wave at the Reverend he ain' t righteous either | |
He a fiend on the low shootin' blow wit Meeka | |
Yeah it' s a crazy world, see how a baby curl | |
When there' s crack in the pregnant stomach of a baby girl | |
Neglected offsprings end of the zone | |
Single mother in the welfare instead of alone | |
Pops smokin' up the money, ain' t no food on the home | |
Now they callin' collect back in jail on the phone | |
The kid' s starvin', kill for everything that he owned | |
It get real hard, body showin' nothin' but bones | |
Smell the death, shirt sprayed wit the bullet colognes | |
Kneel down, pray on the trigger when pullin' the chromes | |
So twisted, love the sound of funeral tones | |
We so stressed out, got a smoke a few to dome | |
C' mon... | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Old babe slang weed outta bribes stay on the porch | |
On the corner, youngstaz rollin' the dice, stay wit the torch | |
My nigga 6foot like to hoop at the court | |
Died at the hands of a crooked cop, excessive wit force | |
Abusive marriage to the block where we get the divorce | |
It' s like storm after storm but we weather the course | |
Yeah, up to a certain extent | |
But we look all high stumblin' on the corner, we bent | |
Dodgin' shots, unsuccessful murder attempts | |
When it' s time to go nobody is prefered or exempt | |
Heaven or Hell gots thermometer takin' ya temp | |
If it' s hot then you go below | |
If it' s cold Mount Everest glaciars of snow | |
I go the penalty, look at my face on the road | |
I' m in the outside prison that' s restrictin' my flow | |
That' s why I smoke weed like I' m free basin' the dro | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Yo, stickup kids is out to tax | |
Caskets stacked for that white snow and plastic wrap | |
These the bul troops to help you make classic raps | |
Project pissin' hallways full of nasty rats | |
All the pain and the glory, shame in the story | |
How a nigga gettin' slained on the train for his jewelry | |
It' s still the same sin in these locations | |
After all these years of prayers and invocation | |
They like the invisble man beggin' for donations | |
They want me to go to war screamin' ' DEFEND YOUR NATION!' | |
Burn the flag, Bush the fag | |
I' m in squalor, can' t put my hands on the ten dollar bag | |
Dreams of being a big boy wit a Colombian tag | |
So grimey eat the dead man in the crab | |
So slimey turn ya head then you get stabbed | |
Go head and try me, cuz so many that had | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care |
zuò qǔ : Dan, Lamont, Littlepage | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Yo, don' t learn shit in school just wanna choke the teacher | |
Back on the block all I see is dope and reefer | |
I wave at the Reverend he ain' t righteous either | |
He a fiend on the low shootin' blow wit Meeka | |
Yeah it' s a crazy world, see how a baby curl | |
When there' s crack in the pregnant stomach of a baby girl | |
Neglected offsprings end of the zone | |
Single mother in the welfare instead of alone | |
Pops smokin' up the money, ain' t no food on the home | |
Now they callin' collect back in jail on the phone | |
The kid' s starvin', kill for everything that he owned | |
It get real hard, body showin' nothin' but bones | |
Smell the death, shirt sprayed wit the bullet colognes | |
Kneel down, pray on the trigger when pullin' the chromes | |
So twisted, love the sound of funeral tones | |
We so stressed out, got a smoke a few to dome | |
C' mon... | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Old babe slang weed outta bribes stay on the porch | |
On the corner, youngstaz rollin' the dice, stay wit the torch | |
My nigga 6foot like to hoop at the court | |
Died at the hands of a crooked cop, excessive wit force | |
Abusive marriage to the block where we get the divorce | |
It' s like storm after storm but we weather the course | |
Yeah, up to a certain extent | |
But we look all high stumblin' on the corner, we bent | |
Dodgin' shots, unsuccessful murder attempts | |
When it' s time to go nobody is prefered or exempt | |
Heaven or Hell gots thermometer takin' ya temp | |
If it' s hot then you go below | |
If it' s cold Mount Everest glaciars of snow | |
I go the penalty, look at my face on the road | |
I' m in the outside prison that' s restrictin' my flow | |
That' s why I smoke weed like I' m free basin' the dro | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care | |
Yo, stickup kids is out to tax | |
Caskets stacked for that white snow and plastic wrap | |
These the bul troops to help you make classic raps | |
Project pissin' hallways full of nasty rats | |
All the pain and the glory, shame in the story | |
How a nigga gettin' slained on the train for his jewelry | |
It' s still the same sin in these locations | |
After all these years of prayers and invocation | |
They like the invisble man beggin' for donations | |
They want me to go to war screamin' ' DEFEND YOUR NATION!' | |
Burn the flag, Bush the fag | |
I' m in squalor, can' t put my hands on the ten dollar bag | |
Dreams of being a big boy wit a Colombian tag | |
So grimey eat the dead man in the crab | |
So slimey turn ya head then you get stabbed | |
Go head and try me, cuz so many that had | |
Yeahyeah, sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I sing the song of the ' Death Choir' | |
I didn' t waste all these tears sayin' all these prayers | |
I don' t really care |