Översättning: The Bronx. Min bror Gun.
brother he'd stomp Smack a bitch in a minute, some say just for fun And he was known for his chrome-plated pearl-handled gun "Yo Ice, you my brother
you got 10 mill I shine so bright I blind ya Cross my crew, we'll find ya It's a motherfuckin shame My dominance to this game I live for gun smoke
From the, tip of my Timbs, to my eyebrows The hostile, english, Olde E widemouth Get PCP fiends, jumpin off cliffs And if you had the balls, you'd be walkin off stiff My
gun Never judge a book by di cover, dat's wrong Dis is Fat Joe alongside di Banton Hey, what about Pun? Rudeboy, salute with your gun Little baby jacker, raised my
s hitmen yo? A nigga named Ricky from the Bronx, cold wop city Thugged out, shoot his gat mad sickly I laid low, called Big Pun and Fat Joe Them niggaz my
the Bronx Streets of state in Island Wherever you see em they slither Whoever fearsome shit check it out It broke me up when they pat me on my shoulder
the back Funny how the honeys come and pose when I'm at In the Bronx and the shows where I'm at You can ask the hoes in my flat Shaq made a path I
peace, to the Boogie the Bronx crew Pete, Sap, Brim, Vayo Mack, Gizmo, Nicer, B.G., my main man Crack So now you know the flav, and you know the time Brothers
a house in Long Isle for my spouse and my child D E L condos for first impression hoes No more holes in my gibros Strictly denim and clothes Airwaves blasting my
the, tip of my Timbs, to my eyebrows The hostile, english, Olde E widemouth Get PCP fiends, jumpin off cliffs And if you had the balls, you'd be walkin off stiff My
Because they don't know my name, only know my initials Building bombs in the attic for elected officials I quit my job, I cut my hair You know I cut my
see 9 niggas, I got 9 shots, I gots to stay low, Niggas know me from Robbin spots, Better be get my rec on, Got my vest on, My shit is reinforced
to his mind and blew it 'Cause some times I lose it, give me a gun and I'll abuse it Puffing with my family, my bitch, my money or my music Making killas
to the face with my gat, gat, gat Keep a close casket, made a son a bastard Got to stay strapped but the Cru is comin' back Loungin' with my Cru above
stoops that double as bleachers And I'm part, of an elite fleet, of mc's, and truthspeakers I import, concrete beats, that just speak, when my moods flavor My
subway, cab, the runway Ski masks and gunplay my past at a young age The illest city on the planet Towers came down, Wall Street barely standin' We Crook Brothers, opposite of Brook Brothers My
my turn, I demand my respect Give me my burn or get slammed in your neck 'Cause it's my turn I'ma reach to the top Gimme my burn, I'ma speak with the
