Paroles officielles de la chanson «Un Casa» : The Diplomats

Paroles officielles de la chanson "Un Casa"

Killa, what's really good, my nigga?
(Un Casa, what's really good?)
What's really good, flee?
Yo, what's really good?
I gotta get on this album, I just signed ta Diplomat yesterday
What's really good?
(I mean, I mean the album is done, I mean)
(You know, you on the next joint, you on my album)
(I mean, what's really good? I mean you good, you know)
But naw but what's really good? I'm in the studio now
It's a beat out there, it's fire
What's really good? I need ta get on this album
I can't be late, man, what you mean?
(I can't, I mean I turned the album in Cas)
(What you really want me ta do?)
Naw, call that nigga, Dame
Tell him it's another joint, man, what's really good?
Dame, what's really good, man?
Call him right now, what's really good, what's really good?
(You know what, I'ma put the beat up 'cause you did sign yesterday)
(I'ma put you on before we even get the album started)
(It better be fire, I mean, what's really good?)
What's really good? You know, I got that piff
What's really, really, really, really, really good?
(Ayo, Guru, put something up matta fact)
What's really good?
(Ayo, Guru, you got tha beat up)
Dipset, Taliban bitch
(Good, ayo, I got tha beat up)
Killa
(You better spit too, man)
Casa, I'm in here, man
(You made me go through all this shit, motherfucker)
(You better spit that shit)
(Diplomats, Jim Jones, Santana, Freekey)
(Ayo, Brazzy, what's really good?)
It's a shame how I rap so bananas
It's Mr. Two-Gun Un
Motherfuckers better cock back them hammers
You might catch in the drop blowing pop wit Santana
The Hawk on me's not from Atlanta
It's just the father to the glocks in the hamper
Look in the rear view, the cops in the camera
I flow hot like blocks down in Tampa
And leave you dead, pop shot from them glammers
And go Down South and rock wit them bamas
And come back in the Porsche, color, hot banana
Vanilla coat seats, piper made by Tropicana
Speakers do the wop, rims do the Macarena
This is Taliban, Dipset, Rocafella
It ain't nuthing for Two-Gun ta pop a fella
Killa signed me, now I got the mozzarella
I promised Hell Rell, Un Cas gon' rock forever
What's really good, flee, what's really good?
(Aight, flee, I mean that, that)
(That's what's really good, I can't front)
Well, what's really good, can I finish?
(I mean, I mean, what's really good? Hold up, Two-Gun)
(I'ma let you finish, I mean, what's really, really good now?)
What's really good?
(I mean what's really good?)
What's really good?
(I mean, you did your thing, I'm wit you, what's really good?)
(Let's finish up, let's right, what's really good?)
Yo, I'm living in tha equinox, niggaz eat wit glocks
Enough steeln it'll cease the block, add yeast to increase the rock
I got knowledge that can teach my pops
Watch my pockets increase ta knots
Play the low, so I speak ta cops
Walk the beat in my bop an my beef and brocs
Ice in my piece and watch
Ain't too many niggaz that can reach the top
Or speak this hot, peep this pop, I leave you not
I rhyme over beats wit the meanest drops
And teens'll flock, seen my spot an seen my props
Red when you seen the cops
Got your wife sucking semen cock
I'ma Taliban, lyrical monster, they'll shout the city I conquer
White Ice cinnamon Parker, Al Qaeda's most vividest author
Hundred thou just ta glitter the charm up
45th sides prettiest monster
The truck look like the city of Tonka
Dame here ta say this nigga is bonkers
Whoa far as tha flow, I'm the realest nigga spitting it
Niggaz talk hustle game but I'm really getting it
Anything I want and need, nigga, I'm getting it
745 Gucci top wit tha stick in it
The ice is so clear like the shit fishes swimming in
I ain't Diddy, y'all but I'm strictly for the Benjamins
I'm tha boss, I ain't dealing wit you middle men
'Bout ta cop a Yukon white made in cinnamon
Niggaz get y'all fucking car game up
(Diplomats, that's what's really fucking good)