Текст песни Making the Rounds (Bleu Collar) с переводом

You know

It’s your boy, Basik MC

A.K.A T-Reez

A.K.A Teron

A.K.A. Ladera’s Mayor

A.K.A The Neighborhood Bully and all that

With my homeboy Reese One the top gun

Bleu Collar music for these damn hustlers

And these cat daddies out here doing it real tough like

You know what I’m sayin', my cousin Eligh on the beat

It don’t stop, it’s so linear

Gutter lane Pros, Living Legends, Metropolitan

It don’t stop playboy

Yes sir!

We young chaps just sautéing, soaking it up

Go ahead and lay something potent in my cup

I’m feeling a shade above excellence

Thumbing through my relevance

Attempting to get my arithmetic sum in lane

In turn giving my olfaction’s something strange

What I do figure is crossing lines

At least while these snipers is sport coating at champs

It’s not where it’s at

Personally we tap, Ladies on the beginnings of their arms

And engulf them with charm

Giving off some time of glow, you know charismatic

Reason for me in the city, to have a tad bit of static

Cuz I’m so well bent but nothings accredited to it

So air boils my blood, I just can’t kick

Holding my air then release steam

Then got used to hooks and? praising the team

They say I walk beyond my time and thats all it means

Me and? at Merose on Melrose

Eyeing dames with small clothes and shell toes

Goodfellas eat good and don’t tamper with the male hoes

With our handsome asses, shop till we drop to much out the accounts

Till we’re stuck in a drought

We pull chicks to the side and compliment their beauty

Never asking for their number, leave that esteem and doubt

Straight from the homies

Me and PSC don’t leave tour without epics to tell

Return to L.A.X. 85 degrees Fahrenheit it’s so damn swell

With our inseam pockets on swell

Oh damn well

It don’t pop unless we say so

It wasn’t cracking unless we were there

We all laying back shooting the breeze

Watching the city move, peeping out various derriere

What, we looking at your girl if you’d move out the damn way

You might avoid, funk at least a damn day day

It’s about barbecues, pools, brews, cool

If it really goes down can I get a what up though?

I’m in a Sixty-Five, Malibu SS

My shit do impress, My look is spotless

I’m that asshole, every bitch wanna lasso

Cuz I do things, bum’s just don’t have the cash fo'

And I show life, to the low lives

And everything a nigga do seems to go right

Move through the city like the Mayor, L.A. Playa

Fucking all-star nigga, Reese Chuck Taylor

Don’t be sick cuz your bitch den switched cliques

Y’all some motherfucking clowns, we top draft picks

The niggas laughing loud, oblivious to the crowd

Your hustle is pointless, you ballin' with no style

And I’m gangsta in the corner

Tequilla and Corona

Getting hounded by a bitch who got a gain of ass on her

Niggas play us close, handshakes and how you been’s

Get outta my face pimp, you ain’t one of my friends

No stress, no pressure

Don’t break, don’t bust

We use to the attention, all eyes on us…

…Yeah, yeah

Shit, why wouldn’t I be?

It don’t pop unless we say so

It wasn’t cracking unless we were there

We all laying back shooting the breeze

Watching the city move, peeping out various derriere

What, we looking at your girl if you’d move out the damn way

You might avoid, funk at least a damn day day

It’s about barbecues, pools, brews, cool

If it really goes down can I get a what up though?

My Nino’s and I bring the funk indoors

As if we was entitled Savion

Only appearing large, when the situations ghetto

Like black cherry soda and the name LaTavion

Man, your mic may be on, but who’s checking

Them boys from L.A. be on some awful shit, I do reckon

Bump with ya like as long as it’s from that Bleu Collar selection

Something to wet your beaks, get your lyrics fetish

And your truck rattling fantasies candidly

Cruise boulevards all you hear is drum and bass like Ronnie Slide

We cross these T’s and we’re on the way to dot the I’s

Communication all whereabouts through micro-state-of-the-art gadgets

Mess with a familiar circle to keep from shorten out who aren’t the faggots

Popularity diverts us to lay low-ow-ow

They know-ow

That ever since eighteen years old-ole

Basik was sports coupe full-ul-ul

Ladera’s Mayor big city boss and your momma’s favorite

Gutter lane pro-oh-oh-oh

It don’t pop unless we say so

It wasn’t cracking unless we were there

We all laying back shooting the breeze

Watching the city move, peeping out various derriere

What, we looking at your girl if you’d move out the damn way

You might avoid, funk at least a damn day day

It’s about barbecues, pools, brews, cool

If it really goes down can I get a what up thought

My Dodger hat tilted, t-shirt bright

My Dickie shorts crispy, tennis shoes white

Caribbean Coke with a little lime twist

Got me ready to spit my sales pitch at a bitch

And it could be yours on my floor on all fours

Your African Queen is now my black whore

Them Bleu Collar bastards keep it cracking till its cancelled

Till it’s all said and done with, you keep doing bum shit

Following a dumb bitch, Imma do fun shit

In the back with some chick, hoping that I cum quick

Shit you dream about is things I can make happen

I been fresh since high school, Punk, this ain’t about rappin'

This ain’t about money, and this ain’t about pull

Me and my niggas just the shit, you and your faggots are bull

…Nigga, that’s just how it is, you can’t buy this shit

It don’t pop unless we say so

It wasn’t cracking unless we were there

We all laying back shooting the breeze

Watching the city move, peeping out various derriere

What, we looking at your girl if you’d move out the damn way

You might avoid, funk at least a damn day day

It’s about barbecues, pools, brews, cool

If it really goes down can I get a what up thought

I mean damn, can I get a what up though?

And if it’s crackin' can I get a what up though?

Bleu Collar

My bitch is buggin' Can I get a what up though?

Reese One

Your bitch is over there, can I get a what up though?

The top gun

The party poppin' can I get a what up though?

Basic MC

Ya’ll got some breezies can I get a what up though?

Neighborhood bully

A lick for a hundred G’s can I get a motherfucking call on the phone,

what up though?

Eligh

Flossy Jay

Hit me on the two way, what up though?

Gutter Lane

Hit me at the house I’ll be like, «what up though?»

Big Mark

Your girl over there talking about «what up though?»

So Imma say later for y’all and what up though?