MF DOOM - Rapp Snitch Knishes (feat. Mr. Fantastik) скачать в хорошем качестве

MF DOOM - Rapp Snitch Knishes (feat. Mr. Fantastik)

The official audio for "Rapp Snitch Knishes (feat. Mr. Fantastik)" from MF DOOM's album MM..FOOD (20th Anniversary Edition) LISTEN/BUY: rse.lnk.to/MMFOOD20yr VINYL/CD/MERCH: GasDrawls.com SONG CREDITS: Written & performed by MF DOOM & Mr. Fantastik. Produced & mixed by DOOM the metal fingered villain. Mastered by Morgan Garcia. LYRICS: Rap snitches, tellin' all their business Sit in the court and be their own star witness "Do you see the perpetrator?" Yeah, I'm right here Fuck around, get the whole label sent up for years, uh Rap snitches, tellin' all their business Sit in the court and be their own star witness "Do you see the perpetrator?" Yeah, I'm right here Fuck around, get the whole label sent up for years, uh [Verse 1: Mr. Fantastik] Type profile low (Low), like A in Paid in Full Attract heavy cash cause the game's centrifugal Mr. Fantastic, long dough like elastic Guard my life with twin Glocks that's made out of plastic Can't stand a brown-nosin' nigga, fake ass bastard Admirin' my style, tour bus through Manhattan Plottin', plan the quickest, my flow's the sickest My hoes be the thickest, my dro the stickiest Street nigga, stamped and bonafide When beef jump niggas come get me, 'cause they know I ride True to the ski mask, New York's my origin Play a fake gangsta like an old accordion Accordin' to him, when the D's rushed in Complication from the wire, testimony was thin Caused his man to go up north, the ball hit 'em again Lame rap snitch nigga even told on the Mexican Rap snitches, tellin' all their business Sit in the court and be their own star witness "Do you see the perpetrator?" Yeah, I'm right here Fuck around, get the whole label sent up for years (Uh) Rap snitches, tellin' all their business Sit in the court and be their own star witness "Do you see the perpetrator?" Yeah, I'm right here Fuck around, get the whole label sent up for years [Verse 2: MF DOOM] True, there's rules to this shit, fools dare care Everybody wanna rule the world with tears for fear Yeah, yeah, tell 'em tell it on the mountain hill Runnin' up they mouth bill, everybody doubtin' still Informer, keep it up and get tested (Pop through) Pop through your bubble vest or double-breasted He keep a lab down south in the little beast (To New York) So much heat you woulda thought it was the Middle East (Middle East) A little grease always keeps the wheels a-spinnin' Like sittin' on twenty threes to get the squealers grinnin' Hittin' on many trees, feel real linen Spittin' on enemies, get the steel for tin men Where no brains but gum flap He said his gun clap, then he fled after one slap (Pap!) Son, shut your trap, save it for the bitches Mm, delicious, rap snitch knishes