lirik lagu killer mike - son of the dope man
[intro]
count that money, man
count that f~ckin’ money, man
more fire, more fire, more fire (my mother)
more fire, more fire, more fire
more fire, more fire, more fire (keep it burnin’)
more fire, more fire, more fire ([?], yeah)
[chorus]
i’m the son of the dope man, the dope man (bro)
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocaine (bro)
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine (my mother)
i’m the son of the dopе man, the dope man (bro)
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocainе (bro)
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine (my mother)
[verse 1]
atlanta, georgia, sl!ck talker
enough gang to get it in their lane
speak southern slang, arrogant like a new yorker
g’d up like a cali n~gga
been slinging dope since sl!ck rick [?], n~gga
since freeway rick lock cali, n~gga
since fat steve jones’ lock ballin’ home, i was on
in high school bookin’ n~ggas up with the zone
dumb motherf~ckers got shorted seven grams
country boys ’bout oz’s full of grand
my trunk full of contraband, all in the spare tire
i’m a live wire, f~ck any snitch wearing wires
a thousand deaths to any rat snitch testifier
b~tch n~ggas get caught and get to tellin’
real n~ggas do their time, get out and keep sellin’
is you a f~g or felon?
[chorus]
i’m the son of the dope man, the dope man
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocaine
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine
i’m the son of the dope man, the dope man
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocaine
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine
[verse 2]
my city ain’t seen good crack since we lost charles black
twenty deep we hustle under streetlight
i’m a 21st century terry white
serve dope and music like bigd and tight
served the world kilo, get my pockets tight
my powder white, my gat all black
leak red out your head if you try and jack
i’m observing n~ggas working just breaking their trap
ten deep in two suburbans, we taking their trap
this is true to form, fella, not poor mall rap
like the neighborhood freak, my guy that’d get you the claps
left dead in the chevy with your brain in your lap
i was corner breaking when reagan had this sh~t on lock
when the miami boys shot it out with the cops
then the [?] boys came through with the k’s
left them boys from mia straight mia
[chorus]
i’m the son of the dope man, the dope man
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocaine
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine
i’m the son of the dope man, the dope man
my daddy sold motherf~ckin’ cocaine
my momma cooked blow man, blow man
my momma cooked motherf~ckin’ cocaine
[outro]
(trash)
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