Track details
Gereleased in: 2009
Album: The Art Of Distortion [STRIKE 51]
Lyrics
The Hardcore
On parole for robbery
Ain't no coppin a plea
ain't no stoppin a G
I'm in the 6 you got to hop in the 3
Company monopoly
You handle shit sloppily
I drop a ki properly
They call me the Don Dada
Pop a collar, drop a dollar
If you hear me you can holla
Even rottweilers, follow, the Impala
Wanna talk about this concrete?
Nigga, I'm a scholar
The incredible, hetero-sexual, credible
Beg a hoe, let it go, dick ain't edible
Nigga ain't federal, I plan shit
While you hand picked motherfuckers givin up transcripts
WHAT?!
Hello!
Gangster shit!
Hello
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit
Whenever you hear some shit and you can't refuse it
It's just some shit, for these kids, to trash they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they asked to do shit
The type of shit that you don't have to ask who produced it
You just know - that's the new shit
The type of shit that causes mass confusion
and drastic movement of people actin stupid
Whoo-whoo
The hardcore administratin'
Gangbang affiliating
Bron:
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