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Queen Pen
Queen Pen — I reps
Queen Pen — I reps (текст песни)
[Pen whispers ’I Reps’ while DJ Clue is talking] [DJ Clue] William nigga Yeah!DJ Clue, Desert Storm, you know how we do things Q-u-double-e- radio And the question of the day, Is who, and what you rep Caller number 1, you on the line [Verse 1: Prodigy] Ayo its P, big chunky 40 inch chains I could fuck your woman, but I perfer brains I could duff you out wit guns and bang I’ma certified, bonofied, Mobb Nigga man This ain’t no ’87 rap battle This is 2001, bloodsport, nigga i’ll get at you This is criminal shit, I’m so infamous I’m so gangsta, these niggas be nervous When we pop up, ya knees lock up Ya stomach catch butterflies And ya heart pumps Suppose to be scared, suppose to be ’wared When you see me get the fuck out my way Nigga I’m in here And I ain’t come for the glamour and glitz I came to fuck you up bad, get drunk, and find me a bitch So where you at girl, holla at the kid ’Fore I slay one of these lame niggas in here, straight up [DJ Clue] Yeah, Caller number two You on the line [Verse 2: Queen Pen] I got some raps for the streets My niggas pack the heats My soldiers on the corner crushin up green meat For all the generations, and mothers ridin the trains To work for y’all crackers, for that bullshit pay I reps for my head that cops his weight That take trips uptown just to cop his haze I rep for them chicks givin brain in the rain That ain’t scared to be a freak, for the right pay I gots to rep for my familys thats stricten wit pain For buryin they boys to soon for this game I rep for my panthers thats locked away And???sittin on deathrow countin down them days I rep for y’all bitches that work lizzie bags That sell hot shit, half price off of tags I rep for them chicks that write they own shit That live just like a live, to write they own shit Its 2001 bitch, stop frontin I rep for my baby mamas thats still walkin I rep for them chicks collectin P.A.&Wic Up in the hair and nail spots makin off the book chips I rep body snactchers, loyaly over passion I’m married to B.S.bitch, ain’t no question [DJ Clue] Caller number three, you on the line [Verse 3: Cam’Ron] I rep money dealers, girls step like, ’Cam you rock a lotta Prada’ Look to her and said, ’bitch I’m bout the dollar’, holla I don’t like it anways, I feel enscadas hotter One get her, get her, good dog, got her, got her Cam is in a Lincolns Clipse Jakes hate belevdere, now y’all drinkin the shit Please, oh my god brother, followin is not gutter Its a major trend setter for you cock suckers Insurance on my diamonds, my rocks covered If I’m wit a bitch, believe me I do not love her I’ma rap like a doobie and spliff My Uzi a click, yeah I did a movie a flick But I step to the director like, ’look I’m not bitchin’ Understand this homeboy, I’m not snitchin Killa Cam still be back in the hood Back where I should, plus I can’t act that good I could cook that coke, get them figures I could bust that gat, strip some niggas No homo, cause my life ain’t no motion picture Motion trigger, I open livers, cock the pump Pop the trunk, I drive em to the ocean nigga Peal em apart, let em know you dealin wit sharks Killa, P-Double, Queen Pen, Lee Low [DJ Clue] Yeah, DJ Clue You know how we do things Q-U-Double E radio And the question of the day is What you rep