Lyrics:
Bekannt von Berlin bis zum LKA-Rechner
Swiss German Cannabis Group
Grüßen alle aus der farm, C.A.P.O
Lila Scheinestapel
Lieber lila, Sativa Shiva im
planète se meurt, élections sales, arnaques et E.P.O
C'est la racaille qu'y'est en train de faire la peau à Zorro
retard plus vite que les P.O.T.E.S
J'démarre pas que ma voiture que pour les fils de P.U.T.E.S
Un petit camion UPS, l'école du crime, j'reviens d'EPS
Motherfucker run
Stöff Digga, ich gebe Speed wie Pep-Ticker
Wie Bale bei Copa del rey und weg is' er
Sagt der P.O.K.
Mich kriegst du net Pisser,
Finding pics inside a unfixed brassiere
Cuz on the low
I had to stand before a judge, I caught a charge
Not a file is at my P.O.'s fingertips like
cap rind a na stiv (aiuto)
l'Europa teme come e cass in a tomorrow Land
Bomb ind o quadern, from you hand, no
Sonnolenz
Arap e (?) o vin fra p
escassez bem na nossa vez
Assim não resta nem as barata (é memo)
Injustos fazem leis e o que resta p'ocês
Escolher qual veneno te mata
Pois somos tipo
verpacken
Oder sie nutzen, um mir hohlem Unsinn weiter zu machen
Und ich entscheide mich wie immer für die Alternative
Denn ich bin P O R N O, Westberlin,
bin P O
Du aber ein Pedo, beim Paten wärst du Fredo
Ich stehe vorm Orchester, tipp' den Dirigierstab
Nachdem ich meine exklusive Sehhilfe poliert
my mama to be proud of me
T-I-T-O! Uh! G-P-T! Y'all know how we do
I just want my mama to be proud of me
UH! I just want my mama to be proud of me
ton abdomen
Deux tournées sans sortir d'album, dis-moi qui fait ça?
À part 1.9.9.5., P.o.s et le Ninety-Five
J'suis en train de vivre tout ce dont
complotto
Sono sul Dub Sync con P.O.T
Tipo cabrio ti scapotto
Come un plotter
Stampo tu salti in aria come il pirata colla botte
Non è lotta libera
Non
cause
Fuck a CON, fuck a P.O. man
You cowards lose, screw you in your county blues
See our views is to get money like Howard Hughes do
Limited
H-A-F-T-I, C-A-P-O schießt
A-B-D-I Süd, Cedo-so stabil
Veysel Psyko G-Shit, S zum Sin City
Azzlack Motherfuck, Offenbach, locker easy
Locker easy
O.J.
The stereotypes don't go away
Little nigga, nice car, where the kilos lay?
The po-po wanna send us where the P.O.'s play
Thinkin' we all get our
changed around my mama's home
My P-O, said a nigga can't achieve pay no more
The justice system tryin' to play me with revolvin' door
Violate parole
A volunteer in his nations struggle
Another soldier in the G.P.O.
The rising failed - our leaders captured
The English grip would not let go
streets, mashing for wealth
Up in this ghetto, O.G.'s P's and see's
Thugs, pimps, playas hit the 6-4's or 3's
[Hook: x 2]
Yeah, ghetto ghetto life
remember when the homie shy boy got his first regal ducking
In the backseat hiding from my p.o, I remember the homie Cesar scratching records with
A needle
other girls got nothin' on me
I know you're feelin the P.O.F. Mystery
If you really wanna know
Let's take it to the floor
[Chorus]
What cha got
cookin soup for the recipe
The 4 corners the weed smoke its almost depressin me
My P.O is straight up supressin me
She know I'm been ballin forever so she
me, Z-Ro and Dougie D
Representing for the S.U.C., with P.O.K to the E
Why we so fly, but gangstally motivated
From corners we educated, so hatas get
When I met you baby, you was for sale
I just stepped out of the county jail
For a punk ass misdemeanor
My P.O. don't like Nickatina
And an old
I'm a be that, for six D-I-G-I-Ts
I'm a L-you-N-A-T-I-see, 'bout to be-L-O-W-you-P, c'mon
[Chorus]
[Kyjuan]
Y'all be hatin a lot 'cause we makin a lot
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