Two Seater (The Conductor's Club Remix)
MC Lyte"Two Seater (The Conductor's Club Remix)" é uma música de MC Lyte, 2009, Pop. A música tem 3:18 de duração, 54 lines / 464 words.
Letra
0:31Fresh dressed like a million bucks
0:33Threw on my black jeans and Timberland Chucks
0:36I got some moneys in my pockets got some money to spend
0:38Got some hoochies I'ma hook up wit quarter to ten
0:41My daughter wit me and we came from the mall
0:43Don't need no baby mama drama
0:44Kissed her on the cheek and dropped her back off
0:46I hit the car wash at half past four
0:48Some kid was star struck
0:49I pulled off my grass and let 'em puff sour
0:51My deuce-deuce rims shinin' happy as they can be
0:54I went to the famous Project that they call QB
0:57I saw some brothers gamblin' on the curb
0:59A shorty pulled a pistol took they paper, ni**a that's my word
1:02I turned the corner wit my burner and palm
1:04Niggaz know my name and game I'm a murderous Don
1:07Saw my peoples then extended my arm
1:09Pulled on the sidewalk, no time to talk
1:11If y'all comin' come on; come on!
1:34Talk like a champion, walk like a champion
1:36Body like a God and I promise that Nas'll a hit you off
1:39Flow like a gangsta, brum bum bum bum bum
1:41Bustin' black dummies and dustin' all y'all niggaz off
1:44I've been around a couple of times, know how things go
1:47I dealt wit 'em all on different occasion
1:49The same things'll come in different stages
1:51So when them things rise up or pop up
1:52I look right past as if its weightless
1:54Meanin' it won't intervene the thought process
1:57So I can levitate to more important topics
1:59Laughin' the Face of Death, flash back of car crashes
2:0220 L's Grey Goose vodka and tall glasses
2:05Dippin' in the twilight
2:06Wit gangsta smokin' w**d in my ride light
2:09The same stuff is still a b**ch livin' like I'm rich
2:12Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars come on
2:36Slow like I robbed Brinks truck, haters all fold
2:40Cuz my .9 is aimed up, I left four seasons
2:42My niggaz bleedin' cause of four reasons
2:45Jealousy, hate, laziness and envy even
2:47Up in the Benzie squeezin' a couple Henny wit my comrad
2:50Conversatin' on what we believe in
2:52Like honey in the way she's been cause he's spend
2:55G's a week in the make freak knees bend
2:57I told her to pimp hard, see the hoes we left in the room
2:59They nymphomaniacs prolly lick homegirls womb
3:02As respect just phone 'em and leave 'em & sh*t
3:05They not your wife keep your cash ni**a don't even trip
3:07Pass the grass accordingly, you saw police
3:09But when I puffed and coughed
3:10Seconds later screamin' "F**k the Lord"
3:13Got CD's, TV's, guns tucked in the floor
3:15Once again I hit the streets and y'all don't see no more
3:18So uh...
Fresh dressed like a million bucks Threw on my black jeans and Timberland Chucks I got some moneys in my pockets got some money to spend Got some hoochies I'ma hook up wit quarter to ten My daughter wit me and we came from the mall Don't need no baby mama drama Kissed her on the cheek and dropped her back off I hit the car wash at half past four Some kid was star struck I pulled off my grass and let 'em puff sour My deuce-deuce rims shinin' happy as they can be I went to the famous Project that they call QB I saw some brothers gamblin' on the curb A shorty pulled a pistol took they paper, ni**a that's my word I turned the corner wit my burner and palm Niggaz know my name and game I'm a murderous Don Saw my peoples then extended my arm Pulled on the sidewalk, no time to talk If y'all comin' come on; come on! Talk like a champion, walk like a champion Body like a God and I promise that Nas'll a hit you off Flow like a gangsta, brum bum bum bum bum Bustin' black dummies and dustin' all y'all niggaz off I've been around a couple of times, know how things go I dealt wit 'em all on different occasion The same things'll come in different stages So when them things rise up or pop up I look right past as if its weightless Meanin' it won't intervene the thought process So I can levitate to more important topics Laughin' the Face of Death, flash back of car crashes 20 L's Grey Goose vodka and tall glasses Dippin' in the twilight Wit gangsta smokin' w**d in my ride light The same stuff is still a b**ch livin' like I'm rich Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars come on Slow like I robbed Brinks truck, haters all fold Cuz my .9 is aimed up, I left four seasons My niggaz bleedin' cause of four reasons Jealousy, hate, laziness and envy even Up in the Benzie squeezin' a couple Henny wit my comrad Conversatin' on what we believe in Like honey in the way she's been cause he's spend G's a week in the make freak knees bend I told her to pimp hard, see the hoes we left in the room They nymphomaniacs prolly lick homegirls womb As respect just phone 'em and leave 'em & sh*t They not your wife keep your cash ni**a don't even trip Pass the grass accordingly, you saw police But when I puffed and coughed Seconds later screamin' "F**k the Lord" Got CD's, TV's, guns tucked in the floor Once again I hit the streets and y'all don't see no more So uh...
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