Dom Pachino - Victims Pt. 2 текст песни

Who to blame? Stick and move like Sugar Shane
Catch me on the Cayman Isle, chewing on sugar cane
With a bad ass dame, I brought from the grain
She hold me down and her pussy hold my cocaine
Pretty thug, usually dressed in Gucci, carry a black uzi
Kick ass, you thought I was trained by Mr. Fuji
Smoke trees and blunts, nevear looseleafs, my life’s a real movie
Shot real niggas, with real toolies
Spit facts of hot tracks, that be real groovy
Excuse me for my '60's slang, but I’ve been in a '67 Mustang
Just doing my thang, or maybe in a Chevy truck
Sitting on 24's, bitches looking very stuck
Some time my situation seem like luck, but I work, hard for this
Stick to the script, real nigga rap, I got my gat on my hip
Don’t need no back, I got a tight ass grip
Plus keep a stack, in case I gotta take a trip
Keep a bitch with a onion, case I gotta make a tip
I fell victim to the fame…
I fell victim to the fame…
I fell victim to the fame…
Stacks and dough, groovy bitches and cocaine
Who’s the Spanish kid, damage your shit and he be reppin'
True and nasty track, get the track moving just my weapon do
Dude disrespecting who, playboy, I thought you knew
Killarmy’s a congegration of niggas that’ll murder you
You talking prime time, no bells ringing, never heard of you
And if I did, and you fucking with fam, then I’m serving you
Personally, ain’t no rehearsing this speech
I give you chills, when I come through like a chalk board screech
I never ask for nothing twice, I usually take it
You’se a tool that don’t work right, and usually break it
I’m a keep a real nigga, that usually fake it
Ya’ll play around with bitches, I spit for naked
I’mma hit you with that Smith & Wess' I found in the lake, kid
Ya’ll don’t hear me? Then ya’ll don’t need to be near me
I’m not insane, I think it’s just a life of pain
Rap, stacks and drugs, just, run through my vein
Not to mention, all that life’ll do up
All the time I had to pull out and hit the floor
Exchange shots, empty the clip, and serve one more
And if no one got hit, then we call it a draw
It’s hood life, if you been there, I don’t need to tell you
If you smell like spider pussy, I don’t need to smell you
Play ya part, my thoughts is like, state of the art
X-ray, don’t play, slugs’ll rip you apart