Heavy artillery
FastCut, G.D.B. Famija, knuckles!
Okay!
Sputo merda, doppio grafica
Dalla teoria alla pratica
Me faccio testi, basi, mix e grafica
E 'sti cazzi dei risultati, è matematica
Diverso da chi per successo
S'è perso la lingua in qualche natica, creo
Rime a incastro scarabeo
Partorisco un altro disco, creo
Senza regole né galateo, cugi' (ha!)
Te imbocco direttamente dalla città der Colosseo
Serio ma, se serve ve sberleffo pure, marameo (haha)
Davanti a un cazzo de microfono scarico stress
Pompo track G.D.B. Famiglia, FastCut, N.B.S
A fine carriera come chi finisce in MLS vintage
Cassette VHS, giubbe, Super NES
Da Roma a Boston, come James Pallotta, G.D.B. Ballotta
Figli de 'na mignotta, ogni parola scotta
So fa' un po' tutto, chiamame Gigi la Trottola
Metti il giubbotto fra' ogni singola rima è una pallottola
Dreams of sitting on the sunny beaches, my Sunday preacher
C'mon let's try to kill the feature, who can see us?
In Italy I feel like I'm home, smoking the side way of Rome
Real nigga, Skype my kids on the phone, the vets
Move like a core Vet, G of G, my hoe set
We so fresh, girls don't neck so we blasting check
Where my shots are, my life is like a movie, get the popcorn
I'm heavy on the real, with the parts gone (don't let us get the job goin')
You cry buckets, fat fuck, you're hatin' at
Now you be so disgusted, end of discussion
Be strong, beat 'pon the eighth rung
Twenty one guns the move for the great one, not on the eighth
N.B.S actual boy spitters declare, baby we spit it legit
Stacking me, facing the free
Erasing the prick, we all in yo' bitch, just don't act up
Or I'll have to pull out my razor and give you fast cuts
Heavy Artillery, in my facility (hardcore shit)
I thank god we got classic
Play is the illest
I'm blessed when I'm spittin'
(Represent) The real hiphop
Get the fuck up
You want to go through some real shit, then follow us
For this real hiphop, y'all not ready, then top
La gente de' borgata, la famiglia fino a Boston
Passerò 10 ore, su 'sto volo, su 'sto posto a basso costo
E penserò a Valerio Suarez cor lessico
Troppo serio come al confine Juarez cor Messico
Come state messi mo'
Il vostro stato è pessimo
Il nostro Stato c'ha lasciati a tutti quanti a pezzi co'
I buffi pe' tre generazioni, cazzo te pensi mo'
Stamo in guerra come nei '90 il Golfo Persico
Questo è Er Costa, con la storia bastarda
Come Arafat co' FastCut te bombarda
Te mo' guarda come cazzo va a finì 'sta barra
Te sgarra come marocchino come col rap Marra
Sto bene con quello che c'ho e vado alla grande
Te coi soldi stai in mutande, te manca la cosa più importante
C'hai più talento nel farli che gusto a spenderli
Sto 'ndo cazzo voglio sta' e te zio stai giusto bene lì
As I roam through Italy, on the throne they Little League, we major
They mimic me 'cause my poem is ministry
I sip Patrón and Hennessy, and Heine too
Or Corona with a lime or two, or Freiner Brew
I'm pilin' you, I put the fire through you
Speakin' every time I'm rhyming with the 'I' in mic (check)
Take some with the punches when I burn your sight
Ligntning and the thunder, why try and fight? You the vagina type
I'm like a highlight reel for Mike Jordan
It's time for night-night bitch, your type's boring (perv)
Smack you in the grote, make your eyes well
You could catch me on the box, where the fire's dealt
I make the streets so hot that their tyres melt
My G's shine, we all stars like Orion's Belt
I'm with the buyer's felt, piffin' the flame
Got them hittin' the deck, ain't nobody spittin' with this
Knuckles
Heavy Artillery, in my facility (hardcore shit)
I thank god we got classic
Play is the illest
I'm blessed when I'm spittin'
(Represent) The real hiphop
Get the fuck up
You want to go through some real shit, then follow us
For this real hiphop, y'all not ready, then top
Okay!
Sputo merda, doppio grafica
Dalla teoria alla pratica
Me faccio testi, basi, mix e grafica
E 'sti cazzi dei risultati, è matematica
Diverso da chi per successo
S'è perso la lingua in qualche natica, creo
Rime a incastro scarabeo
Partorisco un altro disco, creo
Senza regole né galateo, cugi' (ha!)
Te imbocco direttamente dalla città der Colosseo
Serio ma, se serve ve sberleffo pure, marameo (haha)
Davanti a un cazzo de microfono scarico stress
Pompo track G.D.B. Famiglia, FastCut, N.B.S
A fine carriera come chi finisce in MLS vintage
Cassette VHS, giubbe, Super NES
Da Roma a Boston, come James Pallotta, G.D.B. Ballotta
Figli de 'na mignotta, ogni parola scotta
So fa' un po' tutto, chiamame Gigi la Trottola
Metti il giubbotto fra' ogni singola rima è una pallottola
Dreams of sitting on the sunny beaches, my Sunday preacher
C'mon let's try to kill the feature, who can see us?
In Italy I feel like I'm home, smoking the side way of Rome
Real nigga, Skype my kids on the phone, the vets
Move like a core Vet, G of G, my hoe set
We so fresh, girls don't neck so we blasting check
Where my shots are, my life is like a movie, get the popcorn
I'm heavy on the real, with the parts gone (don't let us get the job goin')
You cry buckets, fat fuck, you're hatin' at
Now you be so disgusted, end of discussion
Be strong, beat 'pon the eighth rung
Twenty one guns the move for the great one, not on the eighth
N.B.S actual boy spitters declare, baby we spit it legit
Stacking me, facing the free
Erasing the prick, we all in yo' bitch, just don't act up
Or I'll have to pull out my razor and give you fast cuts
Heavy Artillery, in my facility (hardcore shit)
I thank god we got classic
Play is the illest
I'm blessed when I'm spittin'
(Represent) The real hiphop
Get the fuck up
You want to go through some real shit, then follow us
For this real hiphop, y'all not ready, then top
La gente de' borgata, la famiglia fino a Boston
Passerò 10 ore, su 'sto volo, su 'sto posto a basso costo
E penserò a Valerio Suarez cor lessico
Troppo serio come al confine Juarez cor Messico
Come state messi mo'
Il vostro stato è pessimo
Il nostro Stato c'ha lasciati a tutti quanti a pezzi co'
I buffi pe' tre generazioni, cazzo te pensi mo'
Stamo in guerra come nei '90 il Golfo Persico
Questo è Er Costa, con la storia bastarda
Come Arafat co' FastCut te bombarda
Te mo' guarda come cazzo va a finì 'sta barra
Te sgarra come marocchino come col rap Marra
Sto bene con quello che c'ho e vado alla grande
Te coi soldi stai in mutande, te manca la cosa più importante
C'hai più talento nel farli che gusto a spenderli
Sto 'ndo cazzo voglio sta' e te zio stai giusto bene lì
As I roam through Italy, on the throne they Little League, we major
They mimic me 'cause my poem is ministry
I sip Patrón and Hennessy, and Heine too
Or Corona with a lime or two, or Freiner Brew
I'm pilin' you, I put the fire through you
Speakin' every time I'm rhyming with the 'I' in mic (check)
Take some with the punches when I burn your sight
Ligntning and the thunder, why try and fight? You the vagina type
I'm like a highlight reel for Mike Jordan
It's time for night-night bitch, your type's boring (perv)
Smack you in the grote, make your eyes well
You could catch me on the box, where the fire's dealt
I make the streets so hot that their tyres melt
My G's shine, we all stars like Orion's Belt
I'm with the buyer's felt, piffin' the flame
Got them hittin' the deck, ain't nobody spittin' with this
Knuckles
Heavy Artillery, in my facility (hardcore shit)
I thank god we got classic
Play is the illest
I'm blessed when I'm spittin'
(Represent) The real hiphop
Get the fuck up
You want to go through some real shit, then follow us
For this real hiphop, y'all not ready, then top
Credits
Writer(s): Charles Marcus Price
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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