Dru Down — Ice Cream Man
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Ice Cream Man Dru Down05:18
Текст песни: Ice Cream Man
[Intro] Get your ice cream, ice cream Not Ice-T, not Ice Cube, ice cream Thangs, half thangs QP's, zippers, whatever you need Hard, soft, get your ice cream Ice cream, Peruvian ice cream Ice cream [Verse 1 : Yukmouth] Well, it's the ice cream man, bitch, don't you hear the music I got the shit, fiends holla at me when they use it I got shit sold, I pimp those broke ass nymphos Got 'em suckin' dick in Pintos I guarantee it's not a soda rock You could bring cash money, food stamps, or we can swap Stolen goods for a fat ass dum dum I sweep the fiends off they feet like a broom I rush to the spot when school's up The dope fiends'll see me, and then they pass the other fools up Niggas jealous ‘cause I got good crackola While they shit is power packed with baking soda Hop on the bandwagon. Why not? When I’m gone, niggas claim they got the same shit I got It's because I'm, like, takin’ the money and the power It’s the lick because I cook my shit from powder With a little bit of cut in it All you got is a couple of bucks, go ‘head and spend it It's all good but money ain't all good ‘Cause a raw deal will get your ass sent to Vacaville My vic don't have no bucks wit’ ‘em That bring these unknown niggas claimin’ that it’s they peoples But I don’t fuck wit’ ‘em Get up and steal me hella stereo components To snatch it up before these other niggas get up on it Wanna be fine and dandy with that candy on your hooter Shoot a fiend somethin’ for a sack of Buddha I got the bomb, muthafucka, peep Niggas jump on they feet when they hear the music in the streets Yes you can, yes you can can, yes you can Rush to the van, so you can catch the ice cream man Bitch, don't you hear the music [Verse 2: Dru Down] Well, it's the Coca Cola man, bitch Can't beat the feeling Or the real thing, yeah, you know I got cream So come on, a huddle, give me ten or twenty Dollars, so I can give you rocks. Or do you want powder? Whatever you get, I bet you it's the shit Niggas who know I whip this shit to the fullest It keeps the dope fiends comin’ and comin’, now they’re runnin’ Up to a nigga’s spot, it’s making me hot I'm about to go sick, I mean, crazy with this shit I'm grindin’, I'm slangin’ through the night I'm watching tweakers tweak because they need a P-I-P-E, ugh Get the fuck from in front of my spot I’m ‘bout to open my window and unload my motherfuckin’ Glock Blaow, damn, I see the Task jump out the van Jackin’ niggas slangin’ on the corner, you punk ass rollers That's why I'm in the house under with the cola And some cash stacked to the top I got my money counter and chop a fool who steps to get pop pop No hesitation and no fear My observation is to make a mill a year, yeah And then maybe some daddy will let me date his daughter Or would he want a square nigga? (Hi, may I take your order?) But I'm not with $4.25 and you can keep that Hand me a crack sack and watch me make a big gap Nigga, I'ma ride long and super fat, jack ‘Cause I'm a dope dealer, a motherfuckin’ cream seller People ask who I am Tell ‘em the Cola Man [Verse 3: Numskull] I need to chop up some cream The sun shinin’ bright as fuck Knocks are blowin’ up my shit ‘cause they done missed the ice cream truck Cut up a half and rush the post (Oh shit!) Cops, they don't sweat me ‘cause I look like a school kid But still I'm watching my knocks ‘cause they will gaffle Pressin’ my luck slangin’ right by the Hill Castle I got the cream and niggas are gettin’ jealous, but I don't play that, I got my gat hidden in the cut My bundles gettin’ off quick, shit I got the blammer, takin’ knots from niggas with the Arm and Hammer (Hey…ho) Come here, take this duck Go serve they nigga love and bring my money up I'm on alert when I work but they forever tryna get me That’s why I got my bitch posted up wit’ me (Ay, yo, yo, man, do you got a fat dub rock?) Rise, that's what I got, I’m runnin’ the spot, because I advertise And plus I got the humongo rocks, soda for blocks Nigga, I got more knocks than Goldilocks It's time to make my rounds, black The cops are getting hopeful I sense a jack so I get mobile I got two popsicles and a cookie left Shucks, and a buck that I’ma sell for nine bucks ‘Cause I don’t give no credit, and I mean none You won't see that nigga again ‘til next month And when he come to spend wit’cha, he comin’ for self But he be claiming that he comin’ for somebody else I had to let him understand It's so haaaard to say goooodbyyyee…to the ice cream man
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