Traducción: Young Bleed. Como você faz Dat Album 'minhas bolas e minha palavra ".
Traducción: Young Bleed. Minhas bolas e minha palavra.
the Concentration Camp we breaking bread for life so everything gonna be alright now my nigga my nerve fresh off the curb jelly, jam, and preserve nothin but balls and my word
(feat. Master P, Mystikal) [Master P] This for my nigga Young Bleed, ya heard me? Young Bleed, hah hah, ungh From the South to the West bring the noise
ain't no playa hatin' in me, I got love for the real So if you see me with my [guv?], just move and step aside Hit me up and let a nigga just ride South
frontin my naigga Gotta get the ground beneath your feet first potnah And take it how it come, and play it like it go if you ready And let em know you
my A.K. And smokin on some hay on Valentine?s Day Nigga hah hear me say whut [Chorus] See me ridin cool as glide With my thang right by my side Suggesting
yards or gold rings [Chorus] [Young Bleed:] Can you visualize perfection in a section of a crib And a yard full of ghetto kids when i was dreamin and creamin and
wit You only live once that's how its cut, So where the weed Young Bleed lets get tore up! [Verse 1: Young Bleed] The ghetto got me givin up no love
C-Loc, Master P) [Master P talking] Yeah, huh, my boy Young Bleed in here, C-Loc in here, an you know the colonel MP up in here [Chorus: Young Bleed
whipped blue black My nigga my nerve, fresh out the curb Jelly jam and preserve, nothin but balls and my word And a mossburg pistol grip pump on my lap
(feat. Maxinelli) [Young Bleed] Go get that paper Lil Pop, fuck all that drama and drag Don't stop for nuttin my noggin just put it down with a sag
street and I had to stop Turn up the radio and drop the top I see you look so good, and your so fine Young tender, would you be mine I get you in my
annoy us We keep this shit gangsta nigga from verse to chorus And the Street Lords and truly yours Drive Modena Spiders and big exhaust Bleed for the streets love the war My nose bleeds
blue black My nigga my nerve, fresh out the curb Jelly jam and preserve, nothin but balls and my word And a mossburg pistol grip pump on my lap at all
street and I had to stop Turn up the radio and drop the top I see you look so good and your so fine Young tender, would you be mine I get you in my
cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all Stickin' up white boys in ball courts My
my pocket--and the sky beneath my feet. Chameleons bask in the 'arc-lite' reflection--awaiting a chance curtain call, And here from the wings I have watched them and