Текст песни Up In Smoke (Cuban Link) с переводом

Yo,.lyrical murda on wax, what?!

Still gettin high, puffin' that la

Yeah, Terror Squad, Blunt Records

Check this shit out

Cuban Link. wha.

Yo, i’m up in smoke

Puffin' cho-co-la-te, ta-te queto

I rock my flow, and knock it out just like Jose Canseco

So take off like Delta, run for shelta

Theres no helper here, you felt of it

L be servin niggas like Mr. Belvadere

I twist an L, sip a beer here and there

Drink some liquor then pick a stripper that I can rip and tear, yeah

Come hear the sounds of a rookie fromt he boogie down

Used to be a shorty but guess whos givin nukkies now

So clown if you got the heart

Start some bullshit, it’s your bid

A bullet through your skull from my full clip

I pull triggas givin niggas hell, like I’m sittin

Fake a move, punk, and i’ll run you over like Walter Payton

Makin hits, my cliques, makin moola

Like Don Shula, nothin’s coola

Than puffin on a phat blunt from Cu-ba

I smoke more blunts than a little bit

What are you an idiot?

The more I smoke

The smaller my phillie get

I smoke more blunts than a little bit

What are you an idiot?

Wake up in the mornin, got me yearnin for herb!

Start the buddah session

True confessions, spark the cu' up

Cu' be where the supa-fly's, buddahfied

Even in a suit n tie

Cruisin though the 5 boroughs wit live thorough

Niggas that like to smoke they Hydro in front of 5−0

Yo Manolo shoot that piece of chit, Chichi get the yayo

While I pay Frank a visit, but the bisquit to his cuello

Ey yo, this fuckin blunt’s got me buggin

I be thuggin it out, like Noreaga playin

You ain’t sayin nothing, bustin rappers like adreneline

Puttin venom in’em

Put’em on stage, for minimum wage, to graves is where i send’em

Hem’em up like a party dress

Terror Squad is as hard as it gets

Rippin your heart out your chest

Spark the cess, chickenheads stressin the sex

Wanna jump up in the Lex, twin, when they see me wit the best

Twisted up the dutch, a little Tony’s Touch

Let’em work the clutch while i lite the bliz up

On a highway wit this big fucka

Gettin high like Chris Tucker on Friday, hit it my way

Like Frank Sinatra, lite up at the opera

When the cops come show the prescription from the docta

I puff cause I got ta'

This stuff from the rasta’s

Get enough love in the Bronx, from Italians wit all the pasta

John Blazin, keep the tree’s blazin

You think a lil weed gonna fuck with my cordination?

Wha wha.

Haha. yeah.

Blunted for life. Blunt Records

Triple Seis

Punisher

Fat Ji-Doe

Don Cartigina

Fulla-clips, wha what

Cuban Link’in it

Artie’s,. yeah

Wha wha. real niggas.

Blunted

Yea nigga. this how we do

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