lirik lagu parola nevakâr - x my hood
[“x my hood” ft. mr. malchau & the underclassmen için şarkı sözleri]
[giriş: parola nevakâr]
destek ol ve çözülecek bi’ başka
[verse 1: parola nevakâr]
biz zorladık bu şansı
anla kibiri ötede kilide sok
hesabı yap ve yolunu bul
umudun önüne barikat oldum
çok zeki bi’ tarafım olsa eksiklerime gem vurur
duyar gider bu rap olur
bulaşma derde, dermanım yok
tam hedefi vurdu
sandı kandı, biraz yanıldı
kabulü aldım aklı
fazlasıyla günaha battım
uyandım öyle baktım sonra birden hatıra geldi (ha)
neydi derdi? söyle neydi ceremesi?
görülecek bi’ nesne yok bu çabama sen de destek ol
ve çözülecek bi’ başka parola yok ki
yolumu kanla
yazdım anla, fazla gazla kalktın
vasatsın, öykülerde yer alacaktır kandırırsan kahramansın
sağırsın işine gelmez, hiç bi’ şeyden haberin olmaz
hey sen! günahın boyna övgülerle tövbe olmaz
tek biz iz bıraktık amacı çok belirdi
hep tetikte bulunamazdım
hedefimeyse göz dikildi
[verse 2: the underclassmen]
from switzerville is the town
underclassman is our sound
but when christmas comes around
i take a flight westbound
swiss lx64 to those mia shores
i settle all my scores
call the folks who get to gore
tricks got no love in store
so instead of getting you gifts
i deliver swift punches
getting you hospital airlifts
i’m on tight shift, chasing green at christmas eve
flowing thorough, it’s august mills for those christmas shoppin’ free
drunk and brolic glocks and hatchets
trust in underclass cd’s
quick to make your sales drop like saint nick down the chimney
and while you’re busy sipping eggnog and bells jingle on your ipod
i spit hard bars, getting sl~ts on my irod
but don’t get high, rob
it’s a underclass job
i’m a heartless demagogue
spitting words, shredding you apparel
while you’re happily wrapping presents and singing christmas carols
i’m sticking up your fam, singing a tale of two pharaohs
[verse 3: mr. malchau]
’tis the season to get off at my jollies
i bring it back like a ren & stimpy skit to tchaikovsky
with bread and milk, counting change in a kitchen
freezing up one of your ears to make you listen
i don’t believe in christmas and i don’t believe in god
but i give broads eggnog, stick shift to my kn~b
up for three days cold as the east coast
up with bloodshot eyes, much redder than rudolph’s nose
i want kournikova to say my name
the lottery’s combination, then i woke up; it’s all the same
been bad all year for trying to give life to hip hop
because a lot of you rappers act like you live rock
and that’s a white christmas, like what’s good for business
but your eyes focus glaring, sharp as scissors
jingle my b~lls is how i feel
ask santa claus and all his helpers for your record deal
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