Текст песни The Regime

The Regime / Team Napalm[Crunch Lo]I bleed stress and
I sweat out pain, check out my hardcore reignInsane,
I bring the pain like a John Blaze,
for daysYo, I was dusted in the rangeFeds on my ass,
I was off in the phaseA bad route,
with the fiends, giving me cloutFrom a locked up,
bass in your face, you get chopped upAnd bagged and
sealed and sold, I'm boldWith the black fatigues,
and my skully cuz it's coldBy the shores,
rich in terror's halls, bringing dirty moneyActing
funny, shorts, five for fortyThinking I'm a shorty,
but grown manSmoke home grown of the haze and blackBlunts,
looking like a bat, true fact,
act up and get clapped upFrom Yosemites,
drown my sorrows in the weed and RemyMa,
ghetto superstar, Crunch LoPolly with the baby pa,
the German helmetsThe black one thousands,
cruising in your project housingWest Brighton plaza,
wheezing like ashtmaThoughts get captured and absorbed
like a spongeYou count for my all my ones,
and my sons, and my daughtersFuck around,
nigga, you'll get slaughtered[Chapel]Take a hit for
myself, the God, he need wealthLike Scott,
but inside, he gone a bad healthI guess it's all the
slinging that your homeboy dealt rightPoetry for love,
and everybody elseMy pen melt,
from high gems, scribble tearing bad healthA bad self
of Gods, droppin' hands around ya retardsDodgeTeam Napalm - The Regime - http://ru.motolyrics.com/team-napalm/the-regime-lyrics.html
these waving flash lights security guardsNever had
a crew, I was bubbling hardIn my spare time,
I met meditate, formulate GodsPull ya ways up,
Chap be the body massageListen,
Napalm arsenal, demolish your heartWe official with
the wordplay, the soldiers of charge[Dom Pachino]If
I left it up to them, I'd be fucked up with no moneyI
put in work, man, holla at your dunnyIt's supposed
to be fam, it ain't suppose to look funnyNow it's few
I salute, that's word to my Timberland bootAnd my camouflage
suit, my words good moneyKillarmy forever,
ya'll niggas gotta love meI hear my shit in your jeeps,
ya'll niggas gotta bump meI'm hot,
my shit like crack, bootleggers wanna pump meIt's Dom
P., I pop them thangs, and also pop bubblyMy beard
a little scruff, I can take it backTo opping wheelies
with my Huffy, when my darts was a little rustyBut
now they fine tuned and oiled,
I was raised in the soilNo silver spoon,
but, we had aluminum foilThat we used to wrap the works,
sold the pack wouldn't spoiled[Chorus 6X: Tara Star
(Dom Pachino)]Load your magazines,
it's the Team, the RegimeThings ain't always what they
seem (knawImean?)[Outro: Dom Pachino]Attention soldiers,
ya'll niggas better get focused,
manTry to get this heavy gwop,
military shit, sonThe Team,
the regime, the forceTaking over, son, word up, my troops is ready