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East Side Soldier (Letra)

Yukmouth

Yukmouth Part. seagram,dru down,pooh man

Sweatin in the kitchen
When it comes to a key
43 OZ’s is what I see

Latex glove so it don’t get into my pores
Hardcore to the marrow
Is bein stacked an packed away for a rainy day
Mayne through the Bay
A-K’s is packed on the regular
Who like to plot my riches and my misses
But she packs a duce-duce Gucchi really misses
Niggas didn’t flip the pain
You couldn’t watch Scarface to get this game
I’m from the crew with no pity
The 60’s like Ripley’s
‘Believe It Or Not’ I’m top notch
Sippin on scotch on rocks
I stay down an ready for my fedi
I get crossed by the pigs
I can smell the sweet aroma
You didn’t know 6-9 was in no cahoots
About fuckin wit my paper route
The west and the east
It’s the Seag struttin nigga
Gettin more than a piece of the pie
It’s the authentic 6-9 apostile
Makin niggas seek the gospal.
Chorus *(Yukmouth, Dru Down)*
What would you do if you ain’t got your strap?
Would you get yo ass jacked?
What would you do if you ain’t got your strap?
Would you give up yo scratch?
What would you do if you ain’t got your strap?
Would you get yo ass slapped?
What would you do if you ain’t got your strap?
Would you nut up and scrap?
I’m goin out like 2Pac
Shootin 2 cops in the ass crack
When ever the task jack the turf I be the first to blast back
Make that ass “BACDAFUCUP” like Onyx
I puff up chronic, that make ya vomit like Ginatonic
Gold D’s on trophies every summer
Might wonder if I’m ballin on the unda
I never be givin a fuck, but quick to get my grind on (trick)
The nigga who slips is who I’m quick to pull my 9 on
Now break it down, down break it
Can’t make it, so I take his grip and leave him pistol whipped
I cooks up bricks of A-1 Yola
The soldier til it’s ova
Slappin bitches wit the Motorola
I know a busta, you know a busta too
Juss a few on my shit list to get licked
Shoulda known the game was deep now
Around the East Bound
We’ll buck you up and fuck you up to see you six feet deep now.
I’m juss an East Side Soldier
Ever since then I have been on the rise up
Came out the diaper from a switch to a big stick
And yes I’m like steadily foldin the grip bitch
I want you to know that I’m Down
And niggas wantin to do who?
But niggas couldn’t do me if they wanted to
You’se an owl mutha fucka now what fool?
Another sucka put in the gutta
I accidentaly had the A-K
He thought it was a plot
(He didn’t know I got stripes on my side)
No skills that’s real
No glory in the East Side Soldier story.
My dick is on hard when your guts start spillin
Tore through your vest
Ate through your flesh
All 7 in your chest and your laid to rest
Nigga don’t you know, ain’t no room for guessin
Class is in session meet Mr. Smith & Wesson
Watch the bodies all drop
When they hit your block
It’s when you know when I reach for my chop
Hit you wit this lazer beam sight and take you life
After the lead melts through you cranium
Entering you mind like titanium
Your punk ass potna shoulda told ya
An ran into an East Side Soldier.
Blap! Blap! Blap! Blap! Blap!
International Blunt Funk biatch.