Paroles de la chanson Gangsta Report par Philthy Rich

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Paroles de la chanson Gangsta Report par Philthy Rich

[RJ]
Rest in peace to the boy, in the streets, unemployed
With all these damn ones on me, it's a morgue
They put some bread on me, but what's in store?
Most my niggas got felonies, gangster galore
I'm a gangster for sure
Check my gangster report

[RJ]
Ayy, they ain't know I had the chop right up under me
And a Glock in the hood where the muffler be
Tell Pac that the hood still sufferin'
Ten o'clock on the news, 'nother murder scene
Bulletproof in the roof but it still drop

I peel out, burn rubber on the pill-popper
Lil' mama toss cock, she a drill doctor
Make her whip a soft rock like she Phil Collins, real honest
What's in the dark hit the light like a beam
Bitch on the park, I'ma fight, I'ma bleed
You ain't got heart, you a mark in these streets
Bitch, I do what I talk and I call what I see
I'm a real gangster, tight grill, big bank take lil' paper
Accumulate more cash, how you kill a hater
It's through the banker, gettin' a bag, feelin' innovative
Bitch, I been a gangster

[RJ & Philthy Rich]
Rest in peace to the boy, in the streets, unemployed

With all these damn ones on me, it's a morgue
They put some bread on me, but what's in store?
Most my niggas got felonies, gangster galore
I'm a gangster for sure (Ayy, it's Philthy, nigga, uh-huh)
Check my gangster report (Ayy, do that, Sem City Money Man)

[Philthy Rich]
Look, you was shootin' threes, I was shootin' enemies (I was)
These pussy niggas crossin' game with no penalties (Pussy)
I been rockin' all Gucci, bitch, double G's (Designer)
Check my gangster report, bitch, I been a G (It's Philthy)
Because I'm havin' money, that don't mean that I ain't with the shit (Uh-uh)

Yeah, I'm still with the shit but now a nigga rich (Sem City Money Man)
Drop a bag on his head and get a nigga hit (Ayy, do that)
Have every nigga in your city ride around with sticks (Philthy)
Really in my neighborhood gettin' crack off (Seminary)
I was really outside when it cracked off (Swear to God)
Yellow tape, brake pads on the track off (Is that right?)
Foreign Fourth July, tryna let this MAC off (It's Philthy)
I'm good in every hood that I push up on (Solid)
Them blocks that I been, you never pushed up on (Never)
You the type of nigga we'll push up on (Sucker)

Mini-skirt and high heels and your push-up bra, it's Philthy

[RJ]
Rest in peace to the boy, in the streets, unemployed
With all these damn ones on me, it's a morgue
They put some bread on me, but what's in store?
Most my niggas got felonies, gangster galore
I'm a gangster for sure
Check my gangster report

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