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East M.C.'s es una canción de Masta Killa cuya letra tiene innumerables búsquedas, por lo que hemos decidido que merece tener su lugar en este sitio web, junto con otras muchas letras de canciones que los internautas desean conocer.
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Masta Killa:
Uh, uh, uh, uhhhhhhhhhh! uh uh
Ya'll motherfuckers
Ya'll motherfuckers
Ya'll motherfuckers, Ya'll motherfuckers, don't uh
uh, uh, uh, uhhhhhhhhhh!
Ya'll motherfuckers, Ya'll motherfuckers, don't uh
Masta Killa:
Listen all Gangsta and Fellow MC's we now meet
The Threat is now a actual fact and that's the lease
The Lion Pore rippin' your Jaw dismantle face piece
You made out the Herd the scene
My Murder One Team, Something's best untold
Crime Related - I am who I am so fuck it if son stuck it
We all later paid the best - sipped the fine Grapes
My Rugged Lifestyle is survived - I don't Apologize
Hustlers devote I chose, there's no Compromisin'
And the Guns is drawn, shots fired
Son, all my killers is fam, non-hired
Ya'll faggot niggaz wait for the sound for the things blast
Wait for the Train to past, Man face down
we straight from the Murder Capitol Town
It goes down - Daily on the regular
Dressed in Assassin attire, the bullet proof rep
Strap 'em wit the Bomb to his body, ain't no comin' back
Victorious:
Yea, yo these dudes out here ain't fightin' no more
You either dump or run, or go to the law
Me, I take it to the furthest son, it's Murder One
Maneuver ruegers, I call 'em Ferguson
You forced my hand to take you off the Earth wit Guns
Justify Homicide that burden is done
I drink that Red one straight out the forces, your boy lost it
I'm on the belt park where the Ratchet I toss quick
I'm Boss Bitch from that East New York
Where that cheap talk get you outlined in Chalk
Step out of line, we put your thoughts on the Sidewalk
You popped your top lock like we popped the Corks
You can catch me in the South on approach wit them Choppers
Or Bring out them Helicopters
Your boy gun dame is hella proper
K.Born:
Yea, soul Mass photo flash burned hot
Comin' for the kill, faggot niggaz head gets chopped
And get rolled from blocks and gets slapped out spots
We in N.Y. keepin' live Brooklyn lick off shots
Make 'em duck talk, roll real slow don't stop
Til they get it and flock, See I aim for top
And Why ? don't ask why, just move wit my flow blow so-so
Watch how careers gets stopped
My Pop spend the seedin' I swam scream, strongest and broke through
Raised by to a General - Physical is holdin' weight
And leadin' the way like a Freight Train
But I jump fast, nigga you here ? You Sure ?
Ain't no horse play, don't play
Murder wit my Minds spray
Give y'all fools lessons of war, no more
From every Land on this Planet Earth
And waters all across, truly yours, the Flames, the Force
Free Murder:
The Name's F.R.E.E. M.U.R.D.A.
My nigga A, the name is Free Murda
Killings is no limit even without C-Murder
We takin' Keith Burners, we don't give it back
It's like the Blocks slow it's hard to get rid of that
Kinda mad wishin' he should of had bigger Gat
Not this little shit could fit in my Fitted Cap
Matter of fact give 'em that, Make 'em do somethin'
But really though yo he ain't gon' do nuttin'
Bangin' me, I popped your bitch and now she shot up
The Name is Free and that's the opposite of locked up
I have you wacked up, they call the Cops up
You need a house worker had that blood moped up
Yea I'm like WHAT ? wit my Glock up
I'm a nut like the shit I get off Cocks up
I just popped up and already done wit you
Should of bring your Pops, the way I been sunnin' you
Came wit your thing, you can't fight you'se a lame nigga
Under the wing like lights on the Plane Nigga
Killa Sin:
Yo, fuck all the small talkin'
Get on your job or get the walkin'
Major League Batters in here, you steady barkin'
The Mac more catch like Dogs that botched Abortion
My-Blood pour like bottles of bub
You popped the Corks on the walls on
Better believe I get my Stalk on
+Artist of The Year+ toured for long
BONG! when it's all said and done I be long gone
Hong Kong gettin' my Cock in twat thru my Long Johns
Same song all around the World like 'Pac did it
Caught a lil half a hundred gram wit the Cop wit it
The Grass that I stashed in the Dash, hit the Block wit it
They glocked out and brought along for the Vibe got knocked wit it
Now I'm on top tradin' bars from a box niggaz
Wit Two Strikes against me ain't no waitin' for the Third
Even the Cops get it, got niggaz watchin' they Misses
Doin' a middle harm Lakes cocked in the Air
Screamin' "Yeah" like Lil John
should of pawn like Carm styles is on potty train
Shotty's bang, bodies slained, got niggaz that could get it on
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