Kill Street Blues Lyrics
| Song | Kill Street Blues |
| Artist | Spice 1 |
| Album | The Black Bossalini (aka Dr. Bomb from Da Bay) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Green, Thomas | |
| Chorus: Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock | |
| This is how we clock, stroll up on my block 3 in the morning po-po at my door | |
| I'm wonderin' if really po-po at my door | |
| This is kill street blues (Alternate 3 & 4)repeat 4 | |
| X Verse 1: | |
| Sit your 5 dollar ass down | |
| Nigga 'fore a chief baller make change | |
| Cookin' up yae-yo at 3 in the mornin' | |
| Choppin' up game sackin' up caine | |
| Fetty was layin' all over the floor | |
| I guess you cold say that | |
| I was slippin' | |
| As the door kick in | |
| I stick in my clip and begin the dippin' | |
| Up on these so called po-po | |
| But I know it can't be nuthin' but some niggas | |
| Runnin' up in ski masks | |
| So I continue to curse and blast that asses out | |
| Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes | |
| Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom | |
| Uzi's and | |
| Mack thangs start lettin' off | |
| Niggas catchin' slugs to the face | |
| Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place | |
| Took a dive behind the coach | |
| Heard a nigga say "We gonn' kill you" | |
| My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said "Fuck them niggas I feel you" | |
| So I bail up outta the cut | |
| Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse | |
| Lookin' like a scene with | |
| Laurence Fishborne in "The King of New York" | |
| Now it's 3 o'clock in the morning | |
| And I still don't snooze ' | |
| Cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues | |
| Chorus: Verse 2: 1 nigga died high | |
| Face down in uncut yae | |
| I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day | |
| My homie said "the real feds is comin'" | |
| Said he was hit | |
| I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit | |
| Ran to the kitchen | |
| Hopin' over the deceased | |
| Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police | |
| Put the fetty up in my hand | |
| Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble | |
| Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window | |
| Now it's time for me and my homie | |
| To mob the fuck on out | |
| As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house | |
| Can't say nuthin' about them other niggas | |
| Them haters is out there dead | |
| Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds | |
| And ain't no time to be stickin' around | |
| I'm hearin' them ambulances and homocides | |
| I'm ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this "G" ride | |
| I'm thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me | |
| Partner dropped down to the ground | |
| That's when them po-po started firing on me | |
| Chorus: Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off | |
| As the po-po yelled out freeze (freeze) | |
| Lost a down ass homie and the yae-yo man | |
| But fuck it | |
| I'ma keep the cheese (cheese) | |
| My partners eyes wide open | |
| Nigga layin' there one breath too short (short) | |
| But each time ya nigga | |
| Spice 1 hit the corner | |
| In a big white cloud of smoke (smoke) | |
| Federalles on my bumper baby | |
| Fittin' ta show 'em | |
| I ain't no punk (punk) | |
| Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang | |
| And the left hand ready to dump (dump) | |
| Led 'em on a high speed chase | |
| For about 30 minutes or a little bit more | |
| Got a triple thang murder up under my belt ' | |
| Bout 60 thousand ta doe (doe) | |
| Ohhh nooo | |
| Heard a slg hit my back tire | |
| Then I spun around | |
| Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down | |
| Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin' | |
| Po-Po bustin' at me (punk ass nigga) | |
| Run into the liquor store | |
| Knowin' they'll never catch me | |
| But soon as | |
| I'm thinkin' of makin' my getaway | |
| Ain't this a bitch | |
| Some fedy with a 12 gauge | |
| Put the barrel fight up to my shit (stay right there nigger) | |
| Pull out the money and all of a sudden | |
| I hit the floor | |
| Looked up and see the barrel of | |
| Sgt. Kickass' 4-4 | |
| Chorus: 2X |
| zuo ci : Green, Thomas | |
| Chorus: Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock | |
| This is how we clock, stroll up on my block 3 in the morning popo at my door | |
| I' m wonderin' if really popo at my door | |
| This is kill street blues Alternate 3 4 repeat 4 | |
| X Verse 1: | |
| Sit your 5 dollar ass down | |
| Nigga ' fore a chief baller make change | |
| Cookin' up yaeyo at 3 in the mornin' | |
| Choppin' up game sackin' up caine | |
| Fetty was layin' all over the floor | |
| I guess you cold say that | |
| I was slippin' | |
| As the door kick in | |
| I stick in my clip and begin the dippin' | |
| Up on these so called popo | |
| But I know it can' t be nuthin' but some niggas | |
| Runnin' up in ski masks | |
| So I continue to curse and blast that asses out | |
| Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes | |
| Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom | |
| Uzi' s and | |
| Mack thangs start lettin' off | |
| Niggas catchin' slugs to the face | |
| Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place | |
| Took a dive behind the coach | |
| Heard a nigga say " We gonn' kill you" | |
| My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said " Fuck them niggas I feel you" | |
| So I bail up outta the cut | |
| Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse | |
| Lookin' like a scene with | |
| Laurence Fishborne in " The King of New York" | |
| Now it' s 3 o' clock in the morning | |
| And I still don' t snooze ' | |
| Cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues | |
| Chorus: Verse 2: 1 nigga died high | |
| Face down in uncut yae | |
| I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day | |
| My homie said " the real feds is comin'" | |
| Said he was hit | |
| I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit | |
| Ran to the kitchen | |
| Hopin' over the deceased | |
| Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police | |
| Put the fetty up in my hand | |
| Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble | |
| Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window | |
| Now it' s time for me and my homie | |
| To mob the fuck on out | |
| As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house | |
| Can' t say nuthin' about them other niggas | |
| Them haters is out there dead | |
| Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds | |
| And ain' t no time to be stickin' around | |
| I' m hearin' them ambulances and homocides | |
| I' m ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this " G" ride | |
| I' m thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me | |
| Partner dropped down to the ground | |
| That' s when them popo started firing on me | |
| Chorus: Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off | |
| As the popo yelled out freeze freeze | |
| Lost a down ass homie and the yaeyo man | |
| But fuck it | |
| I' ma keep the cheese cheese | |
| My partners eyes wide open | |
| Nigga layin' there one breath too short short | |
| But each time ya nigga | |
| Spice 1 hit the corner | |
| In a big white cloud of smoke smoke | |
| Federalles on my bumper baby | |
| Fittin' ta show ' em | |
| I ain' t no punk punk | |
| Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang | |
| And the left hand ready to dump dump | |
| Led ' em on a high speed chase | |
| For about 30 minutes or a little bit more | |
| Got a triple thang murder up under my belt ' | |
| Bout 60 thousand ta doe doe | |
| Ohhh nooo | |
| Heard a slg hit my back tire | |
| Then I spun around | |
| Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down | |
| Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin' | |
| PoPo bustin' at me punk ass nigga | |
| Run into the liquor store | |
| Knowin' they' ll never catch me | |
| But soon as | |
| I' m thinkin' of makin' my getaway | |
| Ain' t this a bitch | |
| Some fedy with a 12 gauge | |
| Put the barrel fight up to my shit stay right there nigger | |
| Pull out the money and all of a sudden | |
| I hit the floor | |
| Looked up and see the barrel of | |
| Sgt. Kickass' 44 | |
| Chorus: 2X |
| zuò cí : Green, Thomas | |
| Chorus: Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock | |
| This is how we clock, stroll up on my block 3 in the morning popo at my door | |
| I' m wonderin' if really popo at my door | |
| This is kill street blues Alternate 3 4 repeat 4 | |
| X Verse 1: | |
| Sit your 5 dollar ass down | |
| Nigga ' fore a chief baller make change | |
| Cookin' up yaeyo at 3 in the mornin' | |
| Choppin' up game sackin' up caine | |
| Fetty was layin' all over the floor | |
| I guess you cold say that | |
| I was slippin' | |
| As the door kick in | |
| I stick in my clip and begin the dippin' | |
| Up on these so called popo | |
| But I know it can' t be nuthin' but some niggas | |
| Runnin' up in ski masks | |
| So I continue to curse and blast that asses out | |
| Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes | |
| Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom | |
| Uzi' s and | |
| Mack thangs start lettin' off | |
| Niggas catchin' slugs to the face | |
| Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place | |
| Took a dive behind the coach | |
| Heard a nigga say " We gonn' kill you" | |
| My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said " Fuck them niggas I feel you" | |
| So I bail up outta the cut | |
| Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse | |
| Lookin' like a scene with | |
| Laurence Fishborne in " The King of New York" | |
| Now it' s 3 o' clock in the morning | |
| And I still don' t snooze ' | |
| Cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues | |
| Chorus: Verse 2: 1 nigga died high | |
| Face down in uncut yae | |
| I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day | |
| My homie said " the real feds is comin'" | |
| Said he was hit | |
| I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit | |
| Ran to the kitchen | |
| Hopin' over the deceased | |
| Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police | |
| Put the fetty up in my hand | |
| Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble | |
| Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window | |
| Now it' s time for me and my homie | |
| To mob the fuck on out | |
| As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house | |
| Can' t say nuthin' about them other niggas | |
| Them haters is out there dead | |
| Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds | |
| And ain' t no time to be stickin' around | |
| I' m hearin' them ambulances and homocides | |
| I' m ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this " G" ride | |
| I' m thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me | |
| Partner dropped down to the ground | |
| That' s when them popo started firing on me | |
| Chorus: Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off | |
| As the popo yelled out freeze freeze | |
| Lost a down ass homie and the yaeyo man | |
| But fuck it | |
| I' ma keep the cheese cheese | |
| My partners eyes wide open | |
| Nigga layin' there one breath too short short | |
| But each time ya nigga | |
| Spice 1 hit the corner | |
| In a big white cloud of smoke smoke | |
| Federalles on my bumper baby | |
| Fittin' ta show ' em | |
| I ain' t no punk punk | |
| Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang | |
| And the left hand ready to dump dump | |
| Led ' em on a high speed chase | |
| For about 30 minutes or a little bit more | |
| Got a triple thang murder up under my belt ' | |
| Bout 60 thousand ta doe doe | |
| Ohhh nooo | |
| Heard a slg hit my back tire | |
| Then I spun around | |
| Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down | |
| Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin' | |
| PoPo bustin' at me punk ass nigga | |
| Run into the liquor store | |
| Knowin' they' ll never catch me | |
| But soon as | |
| I' m thinkin' of makin' my getaway | |
| Ain' t this a bitch | |
| Some fedy with a 12 gauge | |
| Put the barrel fight up to my shit stay right there nigger | |
| Pull out the money and all of a sudden | |
| I hit the floor | |
| Looked up and see the barrel of | |
| Sgt. Kickass' 44 | |
| Chorus: 2X |
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