Chours (C-Murder) Running from the police, they never capture me Running from the police, they never capture me Running from the police, they never
Превод: Глупо Соундтрацк. Руннин Из полиције [ц-убиства, Мистикал].
murda ya, and it's so mysterious How many niggas wanna kill us will they run up? Come kill me hater, murder with the AK Play our, play our C Town, all
bitches want us, but as soon as they close, it's the pap pap, pardon me. Take a look, and what you see--Krayzie still runnin' from the police, 'cause
loot Time to throw back on the army suits and Timberland boots Blast at the niggaz from the East New York scene I got my man C with me from Fort Greene
like, "Damn, Nickel you be runnin' through hoes/holes like you a shoe string" I tell you two thangs One Don't ever disrespect me Two Call me "God" like you from
, some of us locked for eternity Was shot down and murdered in beef or turnin' for police Hustlers yeah, you know what the sparks done You know where we evolve from
don't give a fuck if it was D T's They be up like the sea breeze on C C's And they handin' out these murders like free cheese Could you pass me the
[Chours (C-Murder)] Running from the police, they never capture me Running from the police, they never capture me Running from the police, they never
it again A desert eagle and a black mack 10 And never know what happened When we come through, them cowards don't want none They screamin? that they murderers
He said, you have problems, here's a feezy from Israel Ran back outside, just before I could say another homicide Threw the biscuit in the bushes, runnin like Jesse Owens Police
[Intro: from the film "Scarface"] [Host:] I've heard whispers about the financial support your government receives from the drug industry. [Guest:] Well
'll be a decline in the murder rate on the streets [Baby] If the world was mine we wouldn't need no killers We'll put A/C in these project windows [Lil
the D.O.C. Yeah, yeah, I have a secret plan New world connects and threatens man Other hand, everyone fake God light, neofight, spit On the cross from
river runnin through the ghetto That new born baby In the dumpster She been dead for a week While the dope fiend momma Gettin high on the street Gettin beat by police
you at, yeah [Immortal Technique] Random one cop killa, hip-hop has never been realer Volume 2 shot up the president like a gorilla New York police
when your best friend play you like a fucking dog but I don't trust nobody but my tru niggas I mean my brothas, I mean my real niggas Silkk, C-Murder
