Текст песни Guns Blazing

Guns Blazing видео клип

Unkle - Psyence Fiction альбом
  • Wilson
  • Nathaniel Thomas / Davis
  • Josh Paul
  • Electronic
  • Hip-Hop
  • dope beats
  • trip hip hop
  • trip hop
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Unkle - Текст песни Guns Blazing

Styles like Al Pacino

Reno until the carcelino

The mad dino with the cambino, the gambino

Digger than Jim COlisemo

More reservoir dogs than Tarantino

Scales for Venezuela, Brown as Ni O

Making the block hotter than Jalepe OS

G. Luciano

Be wettin' shit like piesce in "Casino"

Fifty dollar cigar seer

The cosnia, the mafia

Don P. like Garcia

Drug Czar and the baby-Pah beater

The M-8 behind the bar-freer

The poughkenoughs, the panama skier

Down with the parmesan

Ready to comb like Vietnam with arms

'Cause the hollow-points and phenomenon

The cheddar-spreader

The killer with the gold Carretta


The sweater-letter with the hollow letter


The patmeretta gettin' redder kids and mamma


Infra-red clow off the armour better

The godfather, the problem solver

Coming through with the 6 shell revolver

Hot as lava

Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber

Gangster saga, the motha-fuckin' face carverUnkle - Guns Blazing - http://ru.motolyrics.com/unkle/guns-blazing-lyrics.html

Drums of death hold your breath

Give you a dose of shit that's dope as soda

The underworld family cosa-nostra

Pearl-handle inside the shoulder-holster

G. Luciano with a click but nothin' but N-S & Chicanos

You get hit up like Castrelano

italiano like crime familia

N- don't get familiar

Me and my goons might have to kill you

Up in New York

We play bloodsports at home court

And hold down forts

Soon as ya caught, get your dome torched

G Rap and Dj Shadow leave your bone squashed

Squeeze the chrome short, take no shorts

We judge and jury in the home court

Give you the clown corpse dead on the sidewalk

Surrounded by mad pedefors

Your whole frame laid in the white chalk

You got the smoking section

First-class tickets to resurrection

Forever destined to a place where N-S never rest in

Headed in hell's direction

Lost at the crossroads and intersection

Should've wore a vest for chest protection

Slug fill you to capacity, someone at the dance

Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy

Bitch N- with the audacity to blaspheme me

Got yourself caught in a motha-fuckin' tragedy

Drums of death

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Тексты песен альбома "Psyence Fiction"

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