
Песня Family Reunion в исполнении Fabolous Feat. Joe Budden, Ransom & Hitchcock - слушать онлайн в хорошем качестве или скачать трек в Mp3 бесплатно на ПК или телефон.
Family Reunion Lyrics[Intro: Killah BH (Joe Budden)] Uh-oh (uh), it's that time again It's been too long, it's family reunion (Mic check, mic check) We gotta school y'all to the game (One, two, one, two) You know what? Let's talk to 'em Let's go (let's go, the wolves is out, nigga) [Verse 1: Ransom] Ain't nobody tryna rap or play me I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV Black gon' pay me, still get the smack off Baisley 'Cause I'm touching more diesel than Shaq old lady Boy, you did it, I done it, I get it, I punish The shit that I come with'll seperate a rib from a stomach I'm the boss, when I spit it, you love it, matter fact I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is scared You got the throne? Then I think I need to sit in your chair We could really get physical here And the sky's the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air Baby, so quit playing, 'fore the clips spray 'em And have his ass M.I.A. like Nick Saban His whole shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit pavement You can't spit if you dead in the ground In the woods, where you had to be found And it's good that you getting it now In the precinct confessing it now I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns, [?] [Verse 2: Hitchcock] I am the silence before the storm, Lincoln Park, the Audubon Slang rock on the same block that the water on I be more than gone, run and get your order form Next time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on 'Cause she realer than most niggas, I tote triggers For you broke niggas and gold diggers with no figures That why I palm the heater, for all you non-believers I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza Better con the preacher, you tryna get on a feature Better get your casket bastard, I'm gon' eat ya We ain't in the same weight class, your fake-ass Couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads, I'm way past Anything that you ever did, I'm better kid And we never sweat a bid, it's easy to get a SIG In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I bring pain I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm King James Y'all doubting who When I spit the whole lead, they be calling Code Red like Mountain Dew 'Fore I count to two you could get your back blown 'Cause your gimmicks out of minutes like a TracFone Get back homes, I'm back on my shit I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles: stacking my chips Clapping my fifth, you the test me type Coming out with a Blade to get Wesley Sniped So the cops could arrest me, right, it's not happening You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop rapping H20 coming this summer, so stop asking All heat like Wall Street, ya stock crashing Now the Feds want to read his rights Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got passion I'm Black and all my niggas getting this 'feti We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags [Chorus: Joe Budden & Fabolous] So whatever you try and do lil niggas I already done (Done) And since you wan' live by it lil nigga Then die by the gun (Gun, hol' up) So whatever you try and do lil nigga (Like we always do about this time) I already done (Done) (D-d-damn) So how the fuck you gon' win little nigga? (Yes) I've already won (Won) (Let's go, uh-huh) [Verse 3: Fabolous] Ayo, money is the root of all evil I thought But when I'm broke is when I usually have the evilest thoughts That's when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & Wesson ya The shoes pop up like Instant Messenger You've got mail, nah, nigga, you got shells And my MAC, you can't use for iChat I've got that, confused that with lie flat And my gat is on leg like thigh tat I that nigga, who you dudes? Some broke niggas who tryna get some YouTube views So 'less you want a point blank, boy, you're too close Bail's in pocket, this is Lawyer Lou Los I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four door ridey Double pipes like a sawed off shotty, nigga [Verse 4: Joe Budden] I flow sickly, riding, bumping old Biggie Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie Fuck plat', if I don't reach diamond fame I treat a nigga face like that old Simon game Figured out why men try us, 'cause we O.D On rims and thin tires, for that we Len Bias All it take is a punch, he ain't brave, he a punk I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch How y'all feel yourselves? Should kill yourselves Us Cowboys don't need you, you Bill Parcells And you ain't gotta empty your pockets when the K's out Whatever you holding is mine, we my PayPal See I don't get how this guy is a threat I make his life inept for a pie to the neck Ride or die, I do both nigga, ride to the death I a cappella the whole left side of his chest Not retiring, still got that pension pending Tryna pop the hood and see the engine missing Double barrelled shotgun, how your men get missing She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint condition Oh, the SIG in the car, you dissin' moi Take the ratchet go home and just Chris Benoit Tell a bird like it is, you promise the broad I one line her, you Isiah Thomas the broad I could send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target And catch a R.O.R. on some Jena 6 charges Nah, I'll put this thing away, I don't even need a Whole hairdo to clip 'em, all it take is one finger wave Been in the [?] for days, show you how I'm real Come home to the truck with the Optimus Prime grill Handed out crack, got the scene poppin' off They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is nodding off All real, tell me how you a thug and you Superman I just seen you in the club doing the Superman A bunch of clowns homes, all I Need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone Major paper, cake by the layers If these dudes is live, I'm the Create-A-Player They callin 'em Kings when they so so hot Something's wrong with that picture, must be Photoshopped I don't promote violence, but when sparkin' the flame, blame Arms start waving like the Carlton Banks dance When them tools go pop, it move whole blocks Come around with your dog and get Kujo shot These MCs is lame, I try to be a MC with brains These niggas is MC Brains Being nice, rappers is far from being nice I'm on the rooftop recording, niggas is being sniped It's like [Chorus: Joe Budden] So whatever you try and do lil niggas I already done (Done) And since you wan' live by it lil nigga Then die by the gun (Gun, hol' up) So whatever you try and do lil nigga I already done (Done) So how the fuck you gon' win little nigga? I've already won (Won) [Outro: Killah BH] It's a wrap. No more. Go back to your regularly scheduled program. This a public service announcement, stamped by Killah BH. Uh-huh. No [?] uh-huh3
