Land Of Tha Heartless — текст песни (bone thugs n harmony)





Krayzie:
Don`t niggas don`t wanna start shit. Buck, buck to the bang. Sendin` bullets to the brain, nigga. Yeah.
A nigga that always at my city with me, now, who was that nigga they put in the plastic? Nigga that thought he could bang.
That nigga`s stuck. That nigga`s blasted. They got my man from the Land. Never ran, I step with deadly men. If ya come a
little bit closer, I can turn you into sand. Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to Cleveland. We thuggin`, we theivin`, we put it
in deep, and the blood is seepin`. Got niggas in alleys, fuck niggas in badges. We say bang. Eighty-eight through the ten-five
(and Clair). St. Clair ain`t shit to fuck with. Pumpin`, Krayzie be bumpin`, dumpin` the bloody body. Me never knew one that
could flow with the tongue. We comin` to shoot up your posse. My niggas--they comin` up out the woods, to get the goods.
Krayzie be thug, and (want to) die--that`s from comin` up in my hood. We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun,
bust one, they done. Cleveland is where we from. Hearts--thugs have none.

High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.

Bizzy:
Soon as I hit the scene, (?), feelin` for a pistol, but I didn`t have no gun. Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin` it with me
tongue. Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from, and I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don`t run from
none. Follow rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me back. And I`m throwin` up St. Clair thugsta niggas, with or
without my gat. Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools East 99 style, fools. Me put it in mind on murderin` you,
followin` whenever me murderous trues. Niggas that claim to bang bang, when it comes to slang thangs, they do. They know
they cannot buck me, one of `em sure to slug me, but they hope the thug I be, Bizzy. Better let `em him be or they`ll see.
Nigga, hangin`, swangin`, never to miss. The Biz is me.

High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.

Layzie:
Livin` in the Land of the Heartless with a sawed-off pump, shootin` craps. Hand on my strap, roll thick, `cause they jack.
Runnin` up on the Bone, you needin` to be pap pap. Soldier thugs be pumpin` them slugs, defendin` they drugs. When they roll
up, niggas be creepin` up slow, heavy packed with they gats, and try to pull a hold up, but nigga, now hold on. Wanna test the
Bone? The gauge is shown. Any is mind blown, lookin` down the barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome. Bone, clack
back me gauge in a rage, copper take these here rocks. Double glock, my pistols be pumpin` and buckin` out shots whenever
the trouble knocks. Steadily hittin`, me clean up, get lit up for ready your soul to burn, and I blow your shit up, get `em on the
get up, `cause niggas must learn. Yearnin` to earn cheese. Ready to die, so niggas can`t take these. Wantin` to clock G`s, want
to move keys, not takin` a loss on my green leaves, please. East nine nine, crime finds mine, strayin` on this road to hell, and
prison walls, testin` balls, for the cause, gotta get that sale, and bailin`, kickin` up mud, rollin`, I get with my thugs. Rippin` apart
shit, so nigga, don`t start shit, `cause we kill in the Land of the Heartless. Die.

High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns



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