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D-X-L (Hard White) (Letra)

Dido

Dido

Curso de Violão - Fórmula Violão

f/ The Lox, Mase

[Sheek]
Yo, ayo let’s get papers and pop Mo’ with holes up in skyscrapers
In condiminiums, overlooking our drug capers
New York City, know only way to play is gritty
I want cheddar, so we can front up in the 850
My whole commity like to puff L’s and look jiggy
Who wan’ test this? My semi leave you chestless
And ain’t shit that you can say to me when you be breathless
Young, but I done did shit that you won’t do
So go ahead wit the bullshit you blab about goin through
I got niggaz who pump on yo’ block and in yo’ spot
Who sit next to you? Protectin you?
But they’ll murder you, playa
Don status, nigga we gettin chipsesis
And bad bitchsesis, frontin, frontin in eclipsesis

[Mase]
Ayo, Mase and The Lox
We takin knots from the out of state spots
Any nigga make it hot, get found in vacant lot
You don’t really wanna come try, the one guy
Who stay dumb high from blunt lye
The rack of sing-sing alumni
Who got more beef than a Islamic farm
So I pack enough sonic arms to neutralize atomic bombs
It’s not a nigga in your gang want it
My AK slay gays, spray strays wit niggaz names on it
Often I bug, then we’ll soften a thug
Have a chump coughin blood, fill his coffin with slugs
Yo, you know I got enough guns to wreck a nation
Any nigga wave a Tec at Mase, and, have a explanation
You bring your crew and em and I’m doin em
Then I’m beatin em down with aluminum
Then I’m puttin two in em
You can’t touch me, I’ve been double sent, wanted for embezzlement
A lot of other things, but that’s irrelavent

Chorus(x2):
[Styles]
If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
[DMX]
Niggaz done started somethin
[Styles]
You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
[DMX]
Niggaz done started somethin

[Jadakiss]
Yo, check out the kid that get coke like Sosa
Never turned down chocha, be in the Costa
Rica, sippin margaritas wit a mami
Cleanin my Tommy, showin love to my army
Whenever The Lox find rippy blocks, we kill em
Yeah I hear niggaz, but I still don’t feel em
And this for the listeners, and prisoners
And them jealous rap cats that prefer dissin us
My 16’s be so real, you can feel em in your vain
Like Ramello’s pops from Sugarhill
J be the cause for the kiss at your wake
Cartel lips, spittin clips at your face
We started from the bottom
You’ll see bad niggaz pardon, whatever
We can do it at the Garden
Word life, this shit is real big
I’m makin niggaz blow trial even if they not guilty

[Styles]
I want a palace for my thugs, wit oriental rugs
Green bags from drugs, get wacked for the love
Twenty niggaz batter me, still couldn’t shatter me
I’m only gettin up, splittin up your anatomy
Official lock family, grants niggaz handin me
I want the finer things, and I hope you understandin me
Sittin at the table, plannin and plug the fan in
Let the sweat dry off and then grab your cannon
Think you smartest, and retaliate the hardest, regardless
If you a thug or a rap artist, respect me like Pesci
and if rap was hockey, I be Gretzky, puffin Nestle
Any ya niggaz done started somethin
Actin invincible like you god or somethin
If you god, then I’ma makes a lot til you rot
And if you a playa, then play for everything you got
And if you a thug, then start bustin off shots
And if you a dog, you better bite before you bark

Chorus

[DMX]
Don’t came at me wit no bullshit, use caution
Cause when I wet shit, I dead shit, like abortions
For bigger portions, of extortion then racketeering
Got niggaz fearin, fuck whatchu heard, this whatchu hearin
How much darker must it get, how much harder must it hit
See if your hardest niggaz flip, when I start a bunch of shit
I like pussy, but not up in my face, so gimme three feet
Cause when we creep, no more than three deep, niggaz see sheep
Bloodhounds found your shit buried in the mud
Following traces of gun powder, residue and blood
A positive ID is impossible, so you know
John Doe is what they gon’ be puttin on that tag on yo’ toe
Now who gon tell yo mother, her baby’s under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed nigga that wouldn’t listen
so you got whatchu came for
[Sheek]
What’s that?
[DMX]
Surgery wit the chainsaw grrrrr, I hit the fuckin streets
cause like I said before ain’t nothin goin down until I eat
Mu’fuckers think it’s all about impressin bitches and stressin bitches
Well, I’m testin bitches game, adressin bitches, and caressin bitches
And dealin wit mu’fuckers on all levels
What I’m dealin wit is all devils, fuckin with snakes
Runnin wit niggaz you call rebels
I got an army of 730 niggaz, dirty niggaz
that come through and worry niggaz
30 niggaz that like to bury niggaz
And scary niggaz get it all the time
cause what they got is all of mine

Compartilhe!

D-x-l (hard White) (Letra)

Curso de Violão - Fórmula Violão

[styles p]
Holiday styles
Bitch, i get you shot in the head or shot in the neck
If i ain’t gettin proper respect
I don’t care if you rap, i still spit in your grill
I don’t give a fuck, never have, never will
If it ain’t on your hip, then you’re lookin to die
I ain’t tryin to be the nigga that’s gonna look at the sky
Ask god why i’m broke, bitch, i’m cooking the pie
We all gon’ die, sooner or later, matter of time
My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes
Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble
Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble
I put sixteen above ya neck, i love my set
Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)
Cause the p gonna squeeze ‘til no slugs is left (what)
You know i’m good with a hundred of ‘dro, gun and an o
You think your shit butter? hop in front of this toast

[sheik]
Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I say what i want, fuck what y’all think is cool
And i hate cops, cause most y’all was dicks in school
No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the god
Play sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard
My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong
What y’all make in a year, i kick that for a song
Check my car, i don’t care, i don’t play fair
Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair
And it don’t buck shot and the blast is hard to hear
I’m a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew
Small yell when i rap, i’m basically talkin to you
You see the pain in my eye? nigga, the flame in my eye?
I’m tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when i die
From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky
I’m that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga
Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what?

[jadakiss]
Yo, yo, yo, yo
All i need is a big gun and a coupe that’s crazy quick
A nice house with five rooms, maybe six
A town where money is coming, eighty bricks
Break ‘em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip
Bet you never even felt the heat
Til i put the m1 next to your waves and melt the grease
Streets help niggaz; niggaz don’t help the streets
Y’all use beats for help; we help the beats
Who want it with me? who want it with sheek? who want it with p?
If i say so myself, it’s a wonderful three
Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox
Same niggas that-a rob you love l.o.x. (uh)
All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)
Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)
Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)
It’s jada {*mwwaa*} responsible for breakin your heart (uh)
Uh

[drag-on]
Creep through the streets
For some of y’all rappers, that’s mighty hard
Me the security? protectin my body? i let my shotty guard
Put chill pills in brains, bullets like tylenol
Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off
And take casket naps, fuck that
You shoulda never let this bastard rap
All i know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel
No parents, tale from my horror’s no morals
Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance
So you dyin? it’s no problem, no lyin
Drag’s fire; so ya hamburger beef? i french-fry ‘em
Drag done ate your food
Like i know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up
Drag barrels, but shit, i spit-bubble your skin up
Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season ‘em well
I don’t brag i let the streets tell
Po’-po’ now you see he fell

[dmx] {*overlapping last line*}
Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers
Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)
Y’all bitches fear it cause you weak
You wanna hear it? i make it speak (what?)
You ain’t ever bust a gun, but there’s a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)
What the science behind that son? (i don’t know)
A lot of easy walkin
I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)
Ain’t tryin to talk about what i got now, but i got now (what?)
I ain’t never sold a brick, i done stuck niggaz up (c’mon)
And for talkin too much shit? i done fucked niggaz up (uh)
It can get "dark" for real, and i think you already know that (uh-huh)
Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that
Now don’t act, cause actin might get you rollin
With what you ain’t ready to handle (uhh)
All that’s left of your memory, is a candle (woo!)
It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggaz
Talkin reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggaz (uh)
From the rap shit to the street shit, i keep shit tight
Let them cats spit that weak shit (what!)
I’m dog for life! nigga!

[styles] (sheek)
They gon’ need extra guns and extra blocks
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra jails and extra cops
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra pits and extra glocks
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra chains and extra watches
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)

They gon’ need extra guns and extra blocks
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra jails and extra cops
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra pits and extra glocks
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)
They gon’ need extra chains and extra watches
(they wanna ruff ryde, ruff ryde, ruff ryde)

D-X-L (Hard White) (Letra)

DMX

DMX

Curso de Violão - Fórmula Violão

[Styles P]
Holiday Styles
Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck
if I ain’t gettin proper respect
I don’t care if you rap, I still spit in your grill
I don’t give a fuck, never have, never will
If it ain’t on your hip, then you’re lookin to die
I ain’t tryin to be the nigga that’s gonna look at the sky
Ask God why I’m broke, bitch, I’m cooking the pie
We all gon’ die, sooner or later, matter of time
My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes
Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble
Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble
I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set
Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)
Cause the P gonna squeeze ‘til no slugs is left (what)
You know I’m good with a hundred of ‘dro, gun and an O
You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast
[Sheik]
Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I say what I want, fuck what y’all think is cool
And I hate cops, cause most y’all was dicks in school
No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God
Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard
My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong
What y’all make in a year, I kick that for a song
Check my car, I don’t care, I don’t play fair
Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair
And it don’t buck shot and the blast is hard to hear
I’m a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew
Small yell when I rap, I’m basically talkin to you
You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?
I’m tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die
from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky
I’m that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga
Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?

[Jadakiss]
Yo, yo, yo, yo
All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that’s crazy quick
A nice house with five rooms, maybe six
A town where money is coming, eighty bricks
Break ‘em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip
Bet you never even felt the heat
til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease
Streets help niggaz; niggaz don’t help the streets
Y’all use beats for help; we help the beats
Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?
If I say so myself, it’s a wonderful three
Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox
Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)
All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)
Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)
Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)
It’s Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin your heart (uh)
Uh

[Drag-On]
Creep through the streets
For some of y’all rappers, that’s mighty hard
Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard
Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol
Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off
And take casket naps, fuck that
You shoulda never let this bastard rap
All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel
No parents, tale from my horror’s no morals
Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance
So you dyin? It’s no problem, no lyin
Drag’s fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry ‘em
Drag done ate your food
Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up
Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up
Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season ‘em well
I don’t brag I let the streets tell
Po’-po’ now you see he fell

[DMX (overlapping last line)]
Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers
know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)
Y’all bitches fear it cause you weak
You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)
You ain’t ever bust a gun, but there’s a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)
What the science behind that son? (I don’t know)
A lot of easy walkin
I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)
Ain’t tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)
I ain’t never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c’mon)
And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)
It can get "Dark" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)
Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that
Now don’t act, cause actin might get you rollin
with what you ain’t ready to handle (UHH)
All that’s left of your memory, is a candle (WOO!)
It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggaz
Talkin reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggaz (uh)
From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight
Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)
I’m DOG FOR LIFE! NIGGA!

[Styles] [Sheek]
They gon’ need extra guns and extra blocks
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra jails and extra cops
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra pits and extra glocks
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra chains and extra watches
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)

They gon’ need extra guns and extra blocks
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra jails and extra cops
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra pits and extra glocks
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)
They gon’ need extra chains and extra watches
(They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)