Текст песни Joell Ortiz - One Shot (Killed For Less)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
It's that killer crack street music
It's that block world, Terror Squad music
Listen, Nobody, what up?
One shot, two shot, three shot, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii
That's for the wife and the kids
I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest
Niggas get killed for less
And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed
Niggas get killed for less
Whether closed caption or high definition
You can probably find me on that big screen, diamonds glistening
Ain't this a bitch, man, that's Joey from the Bronx
And all the dirt he done, how the fuck he make his songs, nigga
He ain't lying, I'm a chemist on that table
Bonita with the beige make the competition hate you
Couple deaths on the block, now they rate you
Little deaths will pull the trigger if I say shoot
One shot, two shot, another nigga down
CSI searching but his face can't be found, nigga
Shit is crazy on the streets of the Bronx
Niggas yelling shots fired but police won't respond
Where I'm from niggas pump that bass
And holla at your little sister right in front of your face, nigga
The working man's a sucker you heard, see
Niggas getting high for twenty years, still thirsty
I guess he share bond with the 'caine
Now that's what I call rekindling old flames, get it
Who else but Coca in the Rover, sports fitted
Could've been my 'ghini or my roadster
Life is for the living, get a chauffeur
Find yourself a bitch that don't mind eating chocha
We spit murder, you's a victim, boy
If that ass get flashy, we'll stick you, boy
One shot, two shot, three shot, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii
That's for the wife and the kids
I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest
Niggas get killed for less
And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed
Niggas get killed for less
So don't die over nothing, let your little crew dash your ass
'Cause on my block I was the doc before Aftermath
I had that rock in the spot, the fiends had to blast
When I chop it with pop and shoot past the glass
See I really hustle, homie, this ain't no fabrication
They never called me back, I filled out many applications
Watching these corny niggas come up, that was aggravating
So I hit the corner, told them beat it like they masturbating
I tried to have the patience, I asked God for the answers
He took too long to respond so I had a chat with Satan
He told me my dreams ain't have to stay imagination
Turned my wrecked Timbs to a stretch Benz for my graduation
Had all the little sluts at my prom salivating
Scooped my diploma, I'm gone, but I kept on calculating
College is holic 'cause every grade I had's amazing
It was school books or cool looks when I passed with Daytons
Clapping at plays or hearing my new Magnum flaming
School girls or I'ma earl, look who this bastard's blazing
Long story short, man, I had these faggots hating
I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap and I get crackolating
I come from the place where you get your hood passes made in
The brook where the only thing shook's on a stove marinating
So when they say congratulations over the respect
My pad is gaining, know I ain't going back, I'm aiming like
One shot, two shot, three shot, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii
That's for the wife and the kids
I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest
Niggas get killed for less
And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed
Niggas get killed for less
That's what the fuck I'm talking about
That real gangsta music, bitch
Like that shit, you like how that shit sound nigga
