3rd Coast: accordi di
Z-ro
Z-ro

N/A1 visualizzazioni
Tonalità: D minor
Verse 1
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Yeah, sup Ro, sup Grace,
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this your boy Den Den
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To jump on this track with you boys,
knowI'mtalkingbout
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It's all about the third baby, third coast,
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yeah I got this
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Verse 2
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See I'm mentally ready,
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fuck those is testing me
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Progress is so sweet,
ain't tripping with envy
Slip and slide like a snake,
pop up the world like a quake
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Mashing hard on the gas,
with the coast on the plate
Verse 3
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Roll on cowards and busters,
peeping them soldiers and hustlers
Got an eye for them fuckers that
trying P.H. with snorkels
Got a trunk full of clutches,
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blinding mine make you stutter
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I blow like a hurricane,
so close all your shutters
Verse 4
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See I wants everything
and everything I'm gone have
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Roll out my red carpet
just to go to my stash
Third coast,
blind and shine like a brand new slab
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On my birthday,
I'm throwing me a fortune on pad
Verse 5
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[Chorus] If you living
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shife, don't
fuck with third coast
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These niggas can't fade third coast,
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these niggas can't fade
Third coast
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You could lose your life,
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don't fuck with third coast
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These niggas can't fade third coast,
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these niggas can't fade
Third coast
Verse 6
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This how we ride in third,
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blow up serve, blow herb
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From lane to lane we grip the grain and
20's chop up the curb
We popping flippers on sippers,
hey those g's on the rise
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With bubble eyes and customized and chrome
twenty inches wide
Verse 7
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Entertainment center be lit up,
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and all the trunks gone lift up
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Button rims they grip up, the
talkers mouths gone zip up
It's that time and here we come,
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third coast take a stand
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We drew it up and screwed them up
and see went through with the
Verse 8
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Plan Jumped in
the mix with hundred
bricks and now a mobbing gorilla
You had to miss go get her,
about the scrilla my nigga
Stay loaded up and we ready,
Box City working that jelly
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Burning more
Verse 9
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streets than
pereddy, while cutting up like
Machetes
No doubt screwed up candy paint,
killer think straight drink
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Down here we
Verse 10
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swinging the tank,
and every thought be bout bank
I'm a be T from the S.U.C. pay
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dues got stripes that be ranks
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That boy G- are- A- see- E third ward born caught off game
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Interlude 1
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Verse 11
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[Chorus: x2]
I done took a lot of losses
now it's time to win
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No more signing dotted lines and I stay
dollars spend
I want convertible benz,
with the blue bubble lens
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I'm worth a million off the corner
when I'm pimping my pen
Verse 12
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See bubble gray is my choice,
pearl white Rolls Royce
Don't need no natural lemon tea I don't
be training my voice
I'm signed over by nature, suckers,
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punchers, simps and fakers
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A click full of back breakers
and more in a Studebaker
Verse 13
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The Mo City don,
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I wave a truck like it's a war rant
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Hit the ATM machine,
ain't no need for me to pawn
'Cause I'm paid,
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my game sharper than a razor blade
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Bald faded and X- rated,
Verse 14
my Gucci's is tailor made
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I bubble in the sauna as I smoke
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marijuana
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From Daytona to Arizona
no longer on the corner
World wide,
I got to keep the dream alive
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Tupac and Biggie done died,
Verse 15
so now they ready for the south side
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Top, dropping, body rocking the Fat Pat
Dirty rats get splat when I pull
out my black mac
'Cause it's over,
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the fat lady done sung the song
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From California to Rome,
these hoes pussies stay warm
Verse 16
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And on to the Alamo Dome,
then right back home
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Ain't no regular we hydro as 4 54
On the boards, be spinning flipping
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with yellow boned women
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Swimming in dividends cause I'm cold
when I'm pimping
Outro 1
[Chorus]
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