Текст песни Regime Killers 2001 (Tech N9ne) с переводом

I got some killers on the payroll, and they know

When it’s time to handle business, nigga, lay low

Money to double, still in the struggle, stuck to my hustle

We all fight back like maniacs with broke knuckles

It’s mo' trouble cause now we seein you niggas

Paint a vivid-ass picture, Boss spittin the scriptures

Nigga, I’m Bossi, Bosslin done turned to cash fiend

I straight pop codeine and drink gasoline

What what, I’m too sick for y’all

Tatted with dragons till I fall, givin dick to y’all

In this pitfall I’m on the grind for mine

My people choose a life of crime, pistol-pushin with nines

On the payroll, apply the pressure when we say so

My troops turn wacko, shoot through your backdo'

My life real, seen a man die slow

And I still can’t sleep, sweatin bullets fo' sho'

So don’t push me, Boss is one tough cookie

My team Regime, pumpin them shots out a hooptie

Who down to rock with the murder plot of a cop killer

Drop niggas, spillin they brains, rollin with hot niggas

Rot with a club to your face for tryin to rock with us

Straight up, get razorblade-cut for fuckin with us

Regime superiors, Max Ju spit rhymes, strip mine interior

Rippin your shit imperial, kill niggas' material

My whole crew ain’t fearin ya, Mad Max the High Priest

I got some real killer muthafuckas behind me

And I be obviously on top of things

With the Regime I’m too clean, make it a murder scene

Glocks and murder beam, niggas ain’t never heard of me

Burnin em to the third degree, leavin niggas in the infirmary

Wait for recoupin, still choosin your brain, stupid

The Dragon recruited real niggas for thug music

So peep game and next time you speak my name

Be prepared for incoming from the heat of the flame

Regime

Regime Killer number one, I’m back up in this bitch with Yukmeez

On the payroll so I spray those foes, make you get on your knees

For the pesos Tech Ninna ??? great holes with these

You stay yellin you’se a merely killer for the cheese, nigga please

Awfully sick, he tryin to fuck, so off with his dick

Can’t floss and he blitzed, molotow in his lips

Tossin his dick in a box of chocolates and walk in his ship

Talk to his bitch and whisper (he loved you) softer to kiss

(He bows down) You get ??? N9ne ???

(We wild now) You wanna rewind mine, I’m prime time

Qwest Records tryin to hold a nigga back

So I ??? Saafir and tellin me ??? get his shit back

Off with their heads, let them hang high

Caught in their beds, let it ??? die

Tech Neen, I’m a fiend for strings by Mike Dean

For the green I damage spleens, then I scream «Regime!»

Let’s take a out-of-town trip with a thousand crips

With a thousand A.K.'s and a thousand clips

No 50 Cent can come to Cali and rob nobody

Cause gees catch and send his ass back a cold body

Young guns’ll lay ya down regardless who you are

Shit, we make a livin out of extortin you stars

Robbin you for your jewelry, snatchin you out your cars

Poverty’s a plague, I rob before I beg

But you don’t expect me to score, times are hard

You’re broke but you’re scared to steal and break a law

You need not worry 'bout me, I live it raw

A hustler with a cause, flippin paper, gotta ball

I had to crawl before I walked but now I’m standin tall on em

Lookin down on em, 'bout to drop my balls on em

It’s time for platinum minin, military grindin

Right when these suckers ??? start declinin

Yuk threw me on part 2

Regime Brick City niggas mobbin when we come through

Nigga, the Governor got it sowed up, spots get blowed up

Funk Doc, Diesel Don, yo, them niggas even showed up

As I rolled up, the nine Glock get load up

For the hold-up, the new hundreds we fold up

Confiscate drugs, niggas' mouths get taped up

Kids get draped up and bitch up-slapped the make up

Then I take up all clothes, jewels and paper

You got 'cash money', but you don’t wanna run the safe, ha?

Nigga, don’t play dumb, I’m steady gettin money from those that hold up

Used to drink weed tea, now my shit robust

Now hold up, car patrolled up

It was 12 Outsidaz in a two-door Toyota

We splatter brains over crack cocaine

In the court we still came to pay Judge Mills Lane

Nigga, it’s not a question

My uzi weighs a ton, 'll have you undressin

Like you was strippin down on Western

Killers on the payroll, pockets stay swoll

Hearts stay cold, that’s why we’s on payroll

Regime Life, niggas

Thug rituals

Regime Life

Thug Lord

Regime Life, nigga

Now where them toy soldiers at?

There they go, right chea

Get them bitches, kill them niggas, there they go, watch it

Where them toy soldiers at? There they go, right chea

Keep them bitches, kill them niggas, there they go, watch it

Get that bitin-ass rapper, wanna-be actor

Fake non-playin Basketball nigga that got dropped from the Raptors

I spit in your face and slap ya, boy

With a .38 kidnap ya, boy

Ductape and wrap ya, boy

??? and flash ya, boy

Lascerate and trash ya, boy

Mash ya, boy, I hate Master P like Pastor Troy

Shame on that nigga for tryin to steal a name from a nigga

Ice Cream Man put flames to a nigga

I figured by now that nigga done been broke off some scrilla for stealin that

shit

But until then I’m killin that bitch

All you got is Snoop Dogg and Mystikal in your click

And all them other muthafuckas are like Mystikal-in your click

You’re still in this shit, «Fuck Yuk, I ain’t feelin his shit'

But fuck you too, you fell off and I’m still in this bitch

Willing to rip the fuckin head off a villain that’s sick

My raps burn like ghonorrhea, need penicillin to spit

The Thug Lord, Ayatollah, fire the flame

Rappers tired in the game, make em retire again

Fuck gold, fuck platinum, nigga, I did that shit

In '95 and '96, so what you did ain’t shit

Niggas go triple platinum, nigga, do some amazin shit

Some eyebrow-risin shit and quit hatin, ya bitch

How the fuck you a mack when you beat down hoes?

At videos give a bad-ass bitch a bloody nose

Nigga, ??? put you on in '84

You was a crackhead in dirty-ass clothes with dopefiend flows

Broke muthafucka out livin on skid row

Nigga, you from L.A., you ain’t even from the Big O

This year them bitch-ass niggas gon' get theirs

You swingin from my balls, why you down there smell my dick hairs

Ya bitch

And Dru Down, the real Mack of the Year, ya bitch-ass nigga

Longevity that, huh

Bitch

Regime Life, nigga

Ya bitch!