Procrastinators Lyrics
| Song | Procrastinators |
| Artist | Prodigal Sunn |
| Album | The Return of the Prodigal Sunn |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Jamal | |
| (Hook: J. Wellz) | |
| Gun Hill, Bedstuy, Fort Greene, special teams | |
| Yung Masta, P-Sunn, Freemurder | |
| (Yung Masta) | |
| Balance the opposite | |
| Militant raps, make soldiers pop they clips | |
| Heatin' up Metropolis, rockin' the whole populous | |
| Ain't no stoppin', mercenary droppin' shit like | |
| I'm on the shelf, you stand fear, cops is watchin' shit | |
| Imitator tried to copy this, download it to floppy disks | |
| Those is poisonous, leave you twist, best to watch it, kid | |
| I roll with many bald heads and dreaded | |
| Mentality is war, havin' niggaz pitch like Andy Pettitte | |
| And ready to set it; old dog in my pocket, don't set it | |
| Me and my crew, we bustin' through like Jerome Bettis | |
| Yo, my name spell disaster, doc' and only, Yung Masta | |
| Comin' at cha, with a fortified structure, I move faster | |
| From Killa Bronx to Cali, Down South, and Worldwide | |
| Futuristic design, watchin' streets with third eye | |
| Disrespect my family, and it's boom bye bye | |
| God think we on the rise, til we kiss the sky | |
| (Chorus 2X: J. Wellz) | |
| Procrastinators, my nigga, what the fuck you waitin' on? | |
| Stay on the move, stay hustlin', this the day is gone | |
| (Freemurder) | |
| Go ahead or play hard, but don't push me | |
| One in head, a-long, don't play hookie | |
| Bust lead in they yard, they won't look me | |
| Right in the eye, Ray Charles can see you pussy | |
| No pain, nigga, no gain | |
| The mack have you dancin' in line like Soul Train | |
| I don't wanna rob you, that jewelry is plain | |
| That ain't hood or fly, like Soul Plane | |
| That ain't good, should pop your own chain | |
| The album went wood, should of copped your own shame | |
| Now you hopin' over trains, your car won't work | |
| Your car won't work, your shorty givin' head | |
| In the car, on the curve, aww, you'se a herb | |
| Pa', that's my word, stay far from the birds | |
| Crackin' on wood, your broads gettin' served | |
| All in the face, just markin' my turf | |
| Spittin' ya cake, bored, lettin' those hoes amp you | |
| Now watch 'em 'play boy', like the porno channel | |
| (Hook) | |
| (Prodigal Sunn) | |
| First of all don't discuss em, trust em | |
| Yeah, I'm good, where I'm at | |
| Empty on tracks, SMPTE the ratch', rock a few hats | |
| New plaques, it's stacked, I keep pushin' the game, hold me back | |
| Watch the game grow old, folks sellin' they soul | |
| Greatest story ever told, about the champ who rose | |
| Nice on his toes, precise with his flows and hoes | |
| Never in it from the beginning, cats keep sinning | |
| Slugs keep spinning, slap a thug, mugged from grinning | |
| I'mma stay winning, love women, like blood in my veins | |
| Rep my name, any terrain, Sunzini the flame | |
| Raised up, in the lion's den, warrin' with men | |
| Trapped and sent gas and wheezing for oxygen | |
| Visual toxin, the story of the hood rotten | |
| We came a long ways, from pickin' cotton, takin' hot ones | |
| Ridin' shotgun, Return of the Prodigal Sunn | |
| Long awaited, carefully created, second to none | |
| (Chorus 2X) | |
| (Outro: J. Wellz) | |
| J. Wellz... |
| zuo qu : Jamal | |
| Hook: J. Wellz | |
| Gun Hill, Bedstuy, Fort Greene, special teams | |
| Yung Masta, PSunn, Freemurder | |
| Yung Masta | |
| Balance the opposite | |
| Militant raps, make soldiers pop they clips | |
| Heatin' up Metropolis, rockin' the whole populous | |
| Ain' t no stoppin', mercenary droppin' shit like | |
| I' m on the shelf, you stand fear, cops is watchin' shit | |
| Imitator tried to copy this, download it to floppy disks | |
| Those is poisonous, leave you twist, best to watch it, kid | |
| I roll with many bald heads and dreaded | |
| Mentality is war, havin' niggaz pitch like Andy Pettitte | |
| And ready to set it old dog in my pocket, don' t set it | |
| Me and my crew, we bustin' through like Jerome Bettis | |
| Yo, my name spell disaster, doc' and only, Yung Masta | |
| Comin' at cha, with a fortified structure, I move faster | |
| From Killa Bronx to Cali, Down South, and Worldwide | |
| Futuristic design, watchin' streets with third eye | |
| Disrespect my family, and it' s boom bye bye | |
| God think we on the rise, til we kiss the sky | |
| Chorus 2X: J. Wellz | |
| Procrastinators, my nigga, what the fuck you waitin' on? | |
| Stay on the move, stay hustlin', this the day is gone | |
| Freemurder | |
| Go ahead or play hard, but don' t push me | |
| One in head, along, don' t play hookie | |
| Bust lead in they yard, they won' t look me | |
| Right in the eye, Ray Charles can see you pussy | |
| No pain, nigga, no gain | |
| The mack have you dancin' in line like Soul Train | |
| I don' t wanna rob you, that jewelry is plain | |
| That ain' t hood or fly, like Soul Plane | |
| That ain' t good, should pop your own chain | |
| The album went wood, should of copped your own shame | |
| Now you hopin' over trains, your car won' t work | |
| Your car won' t work, your shorty givin' head | |
| In the car, on the curve, aww, you' se a herb | |
| Pa', that' s my word, stay far from the birds | |
| Crackin' on wood, your broads gettin' served | |
| All in the face, just markin' my turf | |
| Spittin' ya cake, bored, lettin' those hoes amp you | |
| Now watch ' em ' play boy', like the porno channel | |
| Hook | |
| Prodigal Sunn | |
| First of all don' t discuss em, trust em | |
| Yeah, I' m good, where I' m at | |
| Empty on tracks, SMPTE the ratch', rock a few hats | |
| New plaques, it' s stacked, I keep pushin' the game, hold me back | |
| Watch the game grow old, folks sellin' they soul | |
| Greatest story ever told, about the champ who rose | |
| Nice on his toes, precise with his flows and hoes | |
| Never in it from the beginning, cats keep sinning | |
| Slugs keep spinning, slap a thug, mugged from grinning | |
| I' mma stay winning, love women, like blood in my veins | |
| Rep my name, any terrain, Sunzini the flame | |
| Raised up, in the lion' s den, warrin' with men | |
| Trapped and sent gas and wheezing for oxygen | |
| Visual toxin, the story of the hood rotten | |
| We came a long ways, from pickin' cotton, takin' hot ones | |
| Ridin' shotgun, Return of the Prodigal Sunn | |
| Long awaited, carefully created, second to none | |
| Chorus 2X | |
| Outro: J. Wellz | |
| J. Wellz... |
| zuò qǔ : Jamal | |
| Hook: J. Wellz | |
| Gun Hill, Bedstuy, Fort Greene, special teams | |
| Yung Masta, PSunn, Freemurder | |
| Yung Masta | |
| Balance the opposite | |
| Militant raps, make soldiers pop they clips | |
| Heatin' up Metropolis, rockin' the whole populous | |
| Ain' t no stoppin', mercenary droppin' shit like | |
| I' m on the shelf, you stand fear, cops is watchin' shit | |
| Imitator tried to copy this, download it to floppy disks | |
| Those is poisonous, leave you twist, best to watch it, kid | |
| I roll with many bald heads and dreaded | |
| Mentality is war, havin' niggaz pitch like Andy Pettitte | |
| And ready to set it old dog in my pocket, don' t set it | |
| Me and my crew, we bustin' through like Jerome Bettis | |
| Yo, my name spell disaster, doc' and only, Yung Masta | |
| Comin' at cha, with a fortified structure, I move faster | |
| From Killa Bronx to Cali, Down South, and Worldwide | |
| Futuristic design, watchin' streets with third eye | |
| Disrespect my family, and it' s boom bye bye | |
| God think we on the rise, til we kiss the sky | |
| Chorus 2X: J. Wellz | |
| Procrastinators, my nigga, what the fuck you waitin' on? | |
| Stay on the move, stay hustlin', this the day is gone | |
| Freemurder | |
| Go ahead or play hard, but don' t push me | |
| One in head, along, don' t play hookie | |
| Bust lead in they yard, they won' t look me | |
| Right in the eye, Ray Charles can see you pussy | |
| No pain, nigga, no gain | |
| The mack have you dancin' in line like Soul Train | |
| I don' t wanna rob you, that jewelry is plain | |
| That ain' t hood or fly, like Soul Plane | |
| That ain' t good, should pop your own chain | |
| The album went wood, should of copped your own shame | |
| Now you hopin' over trains, your car won' t work | |
| Your car won' t work, your shorty givin' head | |
| In the car, on the curve, aww, you' se a herb | |
| Pa', that' s my word, stay far from the birds | |
| Crackin' on wood, your broads gettin' served | |
| All in the face, just markin' my turf | |
| Spittin' ya cake, bored, lettin' those hoes amp you | |
| Now watch ' em ' play boy', like the porno channel | |
| Hook | |
| Prodigal Sunn | |
| First of all don' t discuss em, trust em | |
| Yeah, I' m good, where I' m at | |
| Empty on tracks, SMPTE the ratch', rock a few hats | |
| New plaques, it' s stacked, I keep pushin' the game, hold me back | |
| Watch the game grow old, folks sellin' they soul | |
| Greatest story ever told, about the champ who rose | |
| Nice on his toes, precise with his flows and hoes | |
| Never in it from the beginning, cats keep sinning | |
| Slugs keep spinning, slap a thug, mugged from grinning | |
| I' mma stay winning, love women, like blood in my veins | |
| Rep my name, any terrain, Sunzini the flame | |
| Raised up, in the lion' s den, warrin' with men | |
| Trapped and sent gas and wheezing for oxygen | |
| Visual toxin, the story of the hood rotten | |
| We came a long ways, from pickin' cotton, takin' hot ones | |
| Ridin' shotgun, Return of the Prodigal Sunn | |
| Long awaited, carefully created, second to none | |
| Chorus 2X | |
| Outro: J. Wellz | |
| J. Wellz... |
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