Powaful Impak! (LP Version) Lyrics
| Song | Powaful Impak! (LP Version) |
| Artist | Black Moon |
| Album | Enta da Stage |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Black Moon | |
| Ayo this is straight for all them niggas out there | |
| Who frontin' on some bullshit in the beginning | |
| **** that | |
| Verse 1: Buckshot | |
| Blaaaww Here comes the Buckshot Shorty | |
| I kill at will, so guard your grill like naughty | |
| Niggas call me Jeffrey Dahmer, why | |
| I'm quick to bomb a crew | |
| So **** your armor, cause I cause mad trauma | |
| No comma, straight through your mama like acid | |
| I ****ed her, then I jetted, that's why you's a little bastard | |
| You talk mad shit with no back up, what's up, act up | |
| You punk niggas get smacked up, word life | |
| You ****in' with the wrong nigga | |
| I **** too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger | |
| Mister Buckshot, makin' the gun hot | |
| From niggas who fiend to see my little ass rot | |
| Peep my style, check my level | |
| I'm so hot, I shot a ****in' fair one with the devil | |
| Booyakya, watch your back, grab your ****in' gat | |
| Here come brothers who lyrically act | |
| Hook: samples of Busta Rhymes | |
| Powafal Impak 4x | |
| Boom From the cannon | |
| Repeat | |
| Verse 2: Buckshot | |
| Some pack a mac, I choose to pack a black 22 | |
| By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew | |
| I step through, and represent Black Moon | |
| First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag of boom | |
| Lyrically I freak your funk you never heard | |
| My shit is so fly, when I kick it, it's absurd | |
| Damn, how I wrecked your life with one record | |
| Made your crew break up and your girl get naked | |
| Respected, because I work hard for my cash | |
| Shakin' more flavor then Mrs. Dash | |
| Look out below, my flow will hit your brain | |
| I got dough, but I still hop the train | |
| I'm bustin' niggas open, Attica style | |
| Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you're mad foul | |
| Gimme dap, because I rock with the best | |
| Yo, peace to the hardcore niggas, **** the rest | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Buckshot | |
| Fee, to the Fi, to the Fo, to the Funk | |
| I pop junk and keep the pump in the trunk | |
| Puff the skunk and get high, Oh lord | |
| Get on my skateboard and do a mother****in' driveby | |
| You little crab ass flea | |
| Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me | |
| Buckshot, no joke, smoke a nigga like buddha | |
| Who the **** you think you playin' wit | |
| Yeah, I'm sayin' it | |
| Cause I want beef, for you can hang here right | |
| Yo, sometimes I wonder how the **** you get a mic | |
| But I don't sweat that, cause I 'm still paid | |
| Niggas get bucked down, bitches get sprayed | |
| I do what I must, just so I can make loot | |
| If it's illegal, pack the gat son | |
| You know how we do, true | |
| Hook |
| zuo qu : Black Moon | |
| Ayo this is straight for all them niggas out there | |
| Who frontin' on some bullshit in the beginning | |
| that | |
| Verse 1: Buckshot | |
| Blaaaww Here comes the Buckshot Shorty | |
| I kill at will, so guard your grill like naughty | |
| Niggas call me Jeffrey Dahmer, why | |
| I' m quick to bomb a crew | |
| So your armor, cause I cause mad trauma | |
| No comma, straight through your mama like acid | |
| I ed her, then I jetted, that' s why you' s a little bastard | |
| You talk mad shit with no back up, what' s up, act up | |
| You punk niggas get smacked up, word life | |
| You in' with the wrong nigga | |
| I too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger | |
| Mister Buckshot, makin' the gun hot | |
| From niggas who fiend to see my little ass rot | |
| Peep my style, check my level | |
| I' m so hot, I shot a in' fair one with the devil | |
| Booyakya, watch your back, grab your in' gat | |
| Here come brothers who lyrically act | |
| Hook: samples of Busta Rhymes | |
| Powafal Impak 4x | |
| Boom From the cannon | |
| Repeat | |
| Verse 2: Buckshot | |
| Some pack a mac, I choose to pack a black 22 | |
| By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew | |
| I step through, and represent Black Moon | |
| First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag of boom | |
| Lyrically I freak your funk you never heard | |
| My shit is so fly, when I kick it, it' s absurd | |
| Damn, how I wrecked your life with one record | |
| Made your crew break up and your girl get naked | |
| Respected, because I work hard for my cash | |
| Shakin' more flavor then Mrs. Dash | |
| Look out below, my flow will hit your brain | |
| I got dough, but I still hop the train | |
| I' m bustin' niggas open, Attica style | |
| Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you' re mad foul | |
| Gimme dap, because I rock with the best | |
| Yo, peace to the hardcore niggas, the rest | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Buckshot | |
| Fee, to the Fi, to the Fo, to the Funk | |
| I pop junk and keep the pump in the trunk | |
| Puff the skunk and get high, Oh lord | |
| Get on my skateboard and do a mother in' driveby | |
| You little crab ass flea | |
| Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me | |
| Buckshot, no joke, smoke a nigga like buddha | |
| Who the you think you playin' wit | |
| Yeah, I' m sayin' it | |
| Cause I want beef, for you can hang here right | |
| Yo, sometimes I wonder how the you get a mic | |
| But I don' t sweat that, cause I ' m still paid | |
| Niggas get bucked down, bitches get sprayed | |
| I do what I must, just so I can make loot | |
| If it' s illegal, pack the gat son | |
| You know how we do, true | |
| Hook |
| zuò qǔ : Black Moon | |
| Ayo this is straight for all them niggas out there | |
| Who frontin' on some bullshit in the beginning | |
| that | |
| Verse 1: Buckshot | |
| Blaaaww Here comes the Buckshot Shorty | |
| I kill at will, so guard your grill like naughty | |
| Niggas call me Jeffrey Dahmer, why | |
| I' m quick to bomb a crew | |
| So your armor, cause I cause mad trauma | |
| No comma, straight through your mama like acid | |
| I ed her, then I jetted, that' s why you' s a little bastard | |
| You talk mad shit with no back up, what' s up, act up | |
| You punk niggas get smacked up, word life | |
| You in' with the wrong nigga | |
| I too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger | |
| Mister Buckshot, makin' the gun hot | |
| From niggas who fiend to see my little ass rot | |
| Peep my style, check my level | |
| I' m so hot, I shot a in' fair one with the devil | |
| Booyakya, watch your back, grab your in' gat | |
| Here come brothers who lyrically act | |
| Hook: samples of Busta Rhymes | |
| Powafal Impak 4x | |
| Boom From the cannon | |
| Repeat | |
| Verse 2: Buckshot | |
| Some pack a mac, I choose to pack a black 22 | |
| By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew | |
| I step through, and represent Black Moon | |
| First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag of boom | |
| Lyrically I freak your funk you never heard | |
| My shit is so fly, when I kick it, it' s absurd | |
| Damn, how I wrecked your life with one record | |
| Made your crew break up and your girl get naked | |
| Respected, because I work hard for my cash | |
| Shakin' more flavor then Mrs. Dash | |
| Look out below, my flow will hit your brain | |
| I got dough, but I still hop the train | |
| I' m bustin' niggas open, Attica style | |
| Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you' re mad foul | |
| Gimme dap, because I rock with the best | |
| Yo, peace to the hardcore niggas, the rest | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Buckshot | |
| Fee, to the Fi, to the Fo, to the Funk | |
| I pop junk and keep the pump in the trunk | |
| Puff the skunk and get high, Oh lord | |
| Get on my skateboard and do a mother in' driveby | |
| You little crab ass flea | |
| Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me | |
| Buckshot, no joke, smoke a nigga like buddha | |
| Who the you think you playin' wit | |
| Yeah, I' m sayin' it | |
| Cause I want beef, for you can hang here right | |
| Yo, sometimes I wonder how the you get a mic | |
| But I don' t sweat that, cause I ' m still paid | |
| Niggas get bucked down, bitches get sprayed | |
| I do what I must, just so I can make loot | |
| If it' s illegal, pack the gat son | |
| You know how we do, true | |
| Hook |
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