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| Reclame | | | | | | Songtekst:
Real Rude Boys (feat 50 Cent)
(woorden van het lied, melodie, muziek tekst, teksten) | | Auteur:
Sean Paul songteksten
(zijn lied, tekst van de liederen, albums, bibliografie) | | Album:
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Sean Paul ›› Real Rude Boys (feat 50 Cent) songtekst | |
Songteksten Sean Paul Real Rude Boys (feat 50 Cent) songtekst:
Sean paul:
Weh easy, weh ya done know so ya make on the cheesy
Sean-a-peesy, them girls are over breezy
Longside with 50 cent yo
Now them bwoy waan fi them extend yo
Chorus
Sean paul:
Some bwoy fi check it
Jerk off madness and they no make it
Some pon inna the week i couldn't go home and then select it
Haffi get it
Life is gift no man a wreck it
But some little youth them don't get it
[repeat]
Verse 1
50 cent:
Them say they ready
But i know for sure they not ready
rp,bmppnlgrr i
Gold is the grain and for sure they don't get it
4/5th pop of drop they deaded
Nigga come see i mean i forget it
Real rude boys pop off they don't want credit
Niggas know you did it and police know you did it
Whenever drama comes a real soldier don't set it
If it's b did it, big money bet it, in ya brain out and bet it
Don't front with 50 and sean paul
I got 50 soldiers on call ready to brawl
Gangsta see me on those to spray that target
Cause ya niggas you done know when we finished carpet
Yeah!!!
Verse 2
Sean paul:
If ya take it in then ya gonna see
Nuff a them a rule bad man but they wanna be
Setting all them front up inna the club them a look pon me
But them grow empty, no artileries yo
Park it and make it so that they cyah hold them stress
Live get tripe and them a run up inna a mess
When tings pop off some of them gonna get decked
And them haffi know them cyah hold the flex
Chorus
Sean paul:
Tell them fi check it
Jerk off madness and they no make it
Some pon inna the week i couldn't go home and then select it
Haffi get it
Life is a gift no man a wreck it
It's the same ting me tell them fi check it
Verse 3
50 cent:
Make this money
Niggas like my style i'm chipped up
Still i won't hesitate to shoot ya whip up
Gully i got guns, chromes and black ones
Sniff nose and long joints you might wanna pack one
With all the bullshit goin' up in the hood
You need to be something shit it's on in the hood
Get ya ass beat up, stabbed, and shot up
Niggas will tear your ****ing block up
Over some prada
[chorus] | | |
