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1982 - 30 shots كلمات الأغنية

[intro]
statik selektah

[verse 1: chris rivers & conway the machine]
so momma don’t you cry now
daddy broke the motherf_ckin’ mold so i’ma try now
i never fold, i never lost control, i never lied down
i proved that i’m the nicest, never say it_ that’s implied now
that’s why i fought, hold it down for the ex like child support
couldn’t buy a metro, do you realize how much miles i walked?
busted shoes, runnin’ through these hoods like, n____, what’s the rules?
never moved no weight but got my weight up, then i muscled through
breakfast, lunch and dinner_ ain’t have food that’s what balance for
there’s n_____ with some screws loose, like what you think the hammer’s for?
n_____ fake, they [?], they like a tattle_all
i’m chosen when i wrote this higher focus like i’m adderall
had had_me_downs, so pass me down the crown, i made my granny proud
get nicked with cannons if you ever happen to be actin’ wild
i ain’t the one to f_ck with, simply put
i simply am the one, bunch of number twos
they tried to test, i simply answered them (i got it right here, slime)
it’s rivers

[verse 2: conway the machine]
thirty shots make him scurry, n____ (brrr)
i’ll be a g until i’m buried, n____ (facts)
he think he the rap lebron, well i’m curry, n____
whip a nine, pot fork was still dirty, n____ (woo)
i’m just different, my records is excellent
lexus is fresh, benz’s
clips in the tecs was extended
yes, it’s the machine, i feel i’m the best
gxf[r], the reject, it’s like the f_ckin’ new testament, ayo (hahaha)
i ain’t no regular rapper, i will slap you like a b_tch, homie, your head’ll spin backwards
matter fact, i’m way better than rappers
they records trash, they dressin’ like f_ggots and raidin’ the medicine cabinet
they pop pills, i’m poppin’ the steel— i’m lettin’ ’em have it
i’m better than average, i’m a legend when i craft it (huh?)
tool on the waist, my shooters don’t tat tears for a body, he wouldn’t have no more room on his face
it’s the machine, n____
[verse 3: termanology]
we legends in rap, we got this sh_t locked
in the whip, bent, listenin’ to chris’ pops
sippin’ möet and dom, while the cris’ pops
my cousin sniff a lot, then he hit the opps
and dash off, laughin’ hysterically
on a hater_ i’ll spaz and dap ’em generically
and ask for the energy, you could get the strap
got ’em holdin’ me back, like i did bad academically
swing on you, pr_nto
look me in your face like rondo
chop your head off in the gong show
hit the cigar slow, whip out the car show
god fearin’, but i’ll still rip out your heart, though
when i was rhymin’ in the cypher with fresh, y’all was sittin’ ’round ridin’ the bench
no, i ain’t impressed
you tired and stressed, i be dressin’ fire and fresh
swear to god, i even ironed my sweats
it’s me
‘ology

- 1982

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