Capone -N- Noreaga - Dutches Vs. Phillies Vs. Bamboo lyrics

rate me

Yo, shorty, man

Yo, I been seeing you, man, for real, man, come on, man

Yo, man, tell your girl let me sleep with her, man

I give you a thousand grams

He throw blow in lands, hit good pussy up, kush me up

My dough is advanced and rover with the lambskin coat on

Lighting reefer, my mans and them

We got plans, man, but first show me where the grams went

Ten fold scheme in the doorway, we all the way in now

What they rolling for? We blowing them bowling balls

Rifle with the knife on it, lifers jump right up on it

Maseratis double piping, wrist lightning

I rhyme for the flight men, the drug boys, thug noise

They want, they come get it from me, it's like done

I'm just a scholar with some street drug news, plug dudes

No kidnappings, we mug dudes, I love jewels

Might take your man shit, up in the jam and shit

Listening to Eric B. and Rakim planning shit

I'm all for the vandal shit, good nights

Bet I got a good gun with long bullets and a Taruga light

Come to the palace, chalices, hood pussy from Dallas

All of this is childish, I allowed this

Rap saved the babies, all these young niggas with these 3-80's

Fronting like they robbed down Macy's

Stop it, we them cockpit boys, we got shit

Plus pop shit, grab your bird twatty; obnoxious

Flashin' knots and shit, yachts that smell like piss

it's all good, we only fucking in her mouth, partner

The lock men, I rock, was robbing, met her out in Africa

Yeah, yeah, bought her my glock, let me hold that man...

We the Dutch Masters, the blunts with the gun flashers

Love maxing, watch niggas last moves

Keep it cool, get those ones, play the building

Get your run game on, and stay stashing

Aiyo, octopus hands, slash backs of the gold rolly

Shootouts in the liquor store, my man on parole owe me

Old man freedom still preaching on the block

Still talking, you can't sling drums and hold a walkman

Fishcale dumped inside the quarter water juices

Staircase madness, the hammer stash gooses

Went to time flow, yo I heard they let Shyne go

Big whip spaces, betting at the horse races

Old school with it, banging Julio Iglesias

Suaded leather seats, feet reclined, line back of moves

Homey with the chipped tooth from Faragent, he arrogant

Did a bid with him, gave him razors in the church hall

Then he turn Muslim, Jihad to hurt ya'll

Hooligan goon shit, never onto FUBU

Never on computers, niggas never heard of Google

Mink slippers lounging with the cashmere headband

Still spending Euro's, Germany, Dresden

Dubai high, drinking all the French water

Champagne-yah, my campaign a, macarena

Aim a flamer, his accent was Dana Daner

I mean Dana Dane, distribution crazy 'caine

Elvis sideburns, his appearance always crazy lame

Move big weight though, winnebago

Remind me of Dego, and Jose Canseco

The man in San Diego, that's where he lay low

His soldiers do what he say so, all day though

Yeah, little nigga you gotta respect protocol

that's where you come from homeyboy

Aiyo, cigar niggas, Phillies my favorite

Beat the affidavit, that good weed, you save it

Run through the alleyways, ever since the valley days

We been on that New York shit but smoking Cali haze

Aiyo, five grams crushed in a bill fold, he snorted it

Coke professor, test it before he ordered it

Lamping on a La-Z-Boy, real McCoy, flick the ashes

Champagne bitches is butt naked, filling glasses

Whips with the mean stashes, ox spitting gun clappers

Onasis money, she fly with the package

Easy Wider rider nigga, I'm a bamboo vandal

Ran through cities, looking for white paper, that rice papers

That bullshit, the back of the Bibles, the light saver

I blow joints to the head, Al Queda raider

Black bandanna, old hammer, phone scrambler

Niggas wearing wires cause shit bad, lit on fire

Old school marvels, pardon the middle, waves bust to the side

Still rocking diddy bop like '85

Them pinky rings, diamond crust Diors is diamonds dusted, trust it

My niggas rob to rob niggas, so fuck it

Hip hop awards, I was low in them bucket, blowing kisses at Toya Luckett

Before that I was backstage puffing

For my bamboo niggas, lay low playing the benches, relentless

Fresh home from a sentence

You know the rules, get your money and move, blast tools

Clap dudes, keep they ear to the streets with tattoos