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d-loc & dalima - bang كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: tech n9ne]
i’m the regime’s k!ller secret weapon how ’bout that?
so saline n-ggas get to steppin’ how ’bout that?
you g-y bling spitters think you reppin’ i doubt that
stay out back, cause me and my n-ggas about scr-p
when tech is in the house “oh my god, danger”
the tech is in your mouth from a odd, stranger
rejectin’ n-ggas routes that bizarre changer
injectin’ in your spouse on your broad’s banger
first infantry, cursed ent-ty burst into me
one of the perks in this earth’s 21st century
makin you jerk mentally cause this verse meant to be
raising my lurks snippin’ he got a murks into the
mystical medicine malis murderous mud vein
biblical boss of the ballin’ beast in the blood game
sinner’s and theres satan setting so let the slug stain
silenty seekin’ your sh-t salute and let the scud bang

[hook] x2
bang, don’t consider this an ordinary thang
tech with d-loc and dalima get money mane
jellysickle suckin’ n-ggas in the game
they can hold us can’t control us when we bang

[verse 2: dalima]
(hey) i’m the n-gga that be bustin’
i’m the n-gga that be crushin’ your whole gang
and they don’t really wanna f-ck with us, duck because (we gon’ part flame)
techa nina with dalima finna beam a b-tch from across the border
and i’m f-ckin’ with chicks who think i’m givin’ restraining orders
that’s some bullsh-t, every n-gga i know got full clips
so you better get the money cause i’m finna run a n-gga like (ooh trip)
n0body so probably yo body should move away
lookin’ so gotti soap knotty and honestly y’all g-y
i’m the most modest of the local you n-ggas just wanna play
that’s what tech life meant for me and d-loc we f-ck up the game
and sincerely clearly, i think they say it it all
look at the way we dealin witchyou packin’ n-ggas wanna i gotta getchu a call

[hook]

[verse 3: d-loc]
you can ride we ride dirty in my all white t
then b-tter my 9 i had you missin’ all white t–th
n-gga i let the scud bang, i’mma street and this thug twisted came
my customers love me cause i’m insane with the cookin’ game
you know what i think of these motherf-ckers lil’ train
you must be addicted to inhalin’ the smell of a cooking brain
closed casket in the funeral home sittin’
we the main motherf-ckers giving funeral homes business
sending n-ggas to allah, lucifer’s home chillin’
thought you was harbor built up enough nuts for your own k!llin’
and n-gga be guilt like i’m thieving, when i’m dumpin’ the mini fourteen and
i’m leavin’ ’em leaking and weak in the middle of the street this season
then sleep on the beat recognize we ride through the street with heat
like a whip with no ac in the summertime bang a n-ggas beat
when my n-gga tech n9ne the master
d-loc and dalima call the disaster
the world call us in you will never ever has a
reason for your momma to call a pasteur

[hook]

- d loc dalima

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