| 作词 : Cartagena, Clinton, Collins ... | |
| Excuse me while I sing to you | |
| I'm being real and that's the thing to do | |
| I'm just living and loving | |
| Smoking and ******g (Yeah uh) | |
| Out here on the grind, yeah (Alchemist this beat is stupid **** fresh) | |
| If I can't get no love then I can touch you | |
| (*************t is fly, throw back ya heard me) | |
| [Chorus] | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah | |
| (We ridin' on these *************s come on) | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you (Yeah, Terror Squad) | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah (It's goin' down my *************s) | |
| (Stunna, Face, Joe Crack the Don) | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you | |
| [Fat Joe] | |
| You mother******s must be crazy | |
| I been doin' this *************t since the eighties | |
| Run up in yo crib, snatch ya baby baby-baby | |
| It's the kid still holdin' the crown | |
| Now that they give it I'm holdin' a pound | |
| And I'm lookin' for some bustas who be actin' like them *************s do dirt | |
| Come to find out they ain't put in no work | |
| An now my feelings is hurt | |
| Cause they decided that they wanted to murk | |
| But I'ma chase 'em to the end of the Earth | |
| Cause I'm a mother******' rider | |
| You can see the pain in my face | |
| Got no problem exchangin' the hate | |
| They got me fightin' a case | |
| And if I blow will I face a fifteen | |
| And I'll probably do it all in the pen | |
| But yo I'm livin' with it | |
| Death before dishonor for my *************s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride ha ha ha | |
| Death before dishonor for my *************s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride | |
| You mother******s need to know that | |
| [Chorus] | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you | |
| [Baby] | |
| Hey Joe | |
| We gon' ball like dogs but keep it gangsta ************* | |
| I'm a guerilla on the streets but it's time for the fun time | |
| Out of line, I bust with my tech nine | |
| Choose ya loose, I give ya the blues | |
| Ol' ************* ass ************* with his ************* ass crews | |
| It's the murder man mack, I stash in the Lac | |
| I bought my bricks from these dro back stacks | |
| It's the Birdman baby come and holla at me later | |
| Duck ass *************s, we deal with 'em later | |
| First you, go to the mall and you ball like a dog | |
| And we drop the car, then holla at ya boy | |
| Tell them ************* ass *************s, break bread with the boy | |
| Joe, they breakin' bread with the boy | |
| Tell Big Pun *************, Stunna ride for the boy | |
| Win or lose I ride for my boy | |
| It's the B-M gangsta, the D-Boy Click | |
| We mash on bustas and we flip these bricks ************* | |
| [Chorus] | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you | |
| [Scarface] | |
| *************s tell me money talk | |
| But bull*************t is walkin' out on four feet | |
| That's why I'm ridin' on ya whole street | |
| I'll be a ************* till it's said and done | |
| I'm from a section where ya fight till ya die cause ya never run | |
| I keep my forty cal ******ed cause these *************s on my block bang | |
| Right up the street from where the cops hang | |
| And in my head I hear Pac sang | |
| And then them ru*************n' memories make me cry till I can't stop man | |
| Tell my mama I'm a killer if I happen to die | |
| That's how I lived, ain't no sense in me lyin' | |
| My whole life's filled with danger | |
| Never been a stranger to homicide | |
| My neighborhood's full of gangstas and drive-bys | |
| And *************s fightin' for position | |
| The demon has risen from out of prison | |
| Now I'm losin' my religion | |
| That's how I'm feeling when I'm ******' with you | |
| Cause I don't ************* with you, now I'm bustin' at you | |
| So ************* you dude | |
| [Chorus] | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah (Terror Squad, Facemob uh) | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you (Cash Money Millionaires uh come on) | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah (My tech, my mack) | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you (Lick my uzi straight like that) | |
| I'd rather touch you, yeah (My tech, my mack) | |
| 'Stead I'd rather bust at you (Lick my uzi straight like that) | |
| [Scarface talking] | |
| Dedicated to my homeboy Pac | |
| Love daddy | |
| Facemob in the house | |
| Fat Joe and it don't stop | |
| Come on |
| zuo ci : Cartagena, Clinton, Collins ... | |
| Excuse me while I sing to you | |
| I' m being real and that' s the thing to do | |
| I' m just living and loving | |
| Smoking and g Yeah uh | |
| Out here on the grind, yeah Alchemist this beat is stupid fresh | |
| If I can' t get no love then I can touch you | |
| t is fly, throw back ya heard me | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| We ridin' on these s come on | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Yeah, Terror Squad | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah It' s goin' down my s | |
| Stunna, Face, Joe Crack the Don | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Fat Joe | |
| You mother s must be crazy | |
| I been doin' this t since the eighties | |
| Run up in yo crib, snatch ya baby babybaby | |
| It' s the kid still holdin' the crown | |
| Now that they give it I' m holdin' a pound | |
| And I' m lookin' for some bustas who be actin' like them s do dirt | |
| Come to find out they ain' t put in no work | |
| An now my feelings is hurt | |
| Cause they decided that they wanted to murk | |
| But I' ma chase ' em to the end of the Earth | |
| Cause I' m a mother' rider | |
| You can see the pain in my face | |
| Got no problem exchangin' the hate | |
| They got me fightin' a case | |
| And if I blow will I face a fifteen | |
| And I' ll probably do it all in the pen | |
| But yo I' m livin' with it | |
| Death before dishonor for my s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride ha ha ha | |
| Death before dishonor for my s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride | |
| You mother s need to know that | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Baby | |
| Hey Joe | |
| We gon' ball like dogs but keep it gangsta | |
| I' m a guerilla on the streets but it' s time for the fun time | |
| Out of line, I bust with my tech nine | |
| Choose ya loose, I give ya the blues | |
| Ol' ass with his ass crews | |
| It' s the murder man mack, I stash in the Lac | |
| I bought my bricks from these dro back stacks | |
| It' s the Birdman baby come and holla at me later | |
| Duck ass s, we deal with ' em later | |
| First you, go to the mall and you ball like a dog | |
| And we drop the car, then holla at ya boy | |
| Tell them ass s, break bread with the boy | |
| Joe, they breakin' bread with the boy | |
| Tell Big Pun , Stunna ride for the boy | |
| Win or lose I ride for my boy | |
| It' s the BM gangsta, the DBoy Click | |
| We mash on bustas and we flip these bricks | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Scarface | |
| s tell me money talk | |
| But bull t is walkin' out on four feet | |
| That' s why I' m ridin' on ya whole street | |
| I' ll be a till it' s said and done | |
| I' m from a section where ya fight till ya die cause ya never run | |
| I keep my forty cal ed cause these s on my block bang | |
| Right up the street from where the cops hang | |
| And in my head I hear Pac sang | |
| And then them ru n' memories make me cry till I can' t stop man | |
| Tell my mama I' m a killer if I happen to die | |
| That' s how I lived, ain' t no sense in me lyin' | |
| My whole life' s filled with danger | |
| Never been a stranger to homicide | |
| My neighborhood' s full of gangstas and drivebys | |
| And s fightin' for position | |
| The demon has risen from out of prison | |
| Now I' m losin' my religion | |
| That' s how I' m feeling when I' m ' with you | |
| Cause I don' t with you, now I' m bustin' at you | |
| So you dude | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah Terror Squad, Facemob uh | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Cash Money Millionaires uh come on | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah My tech, my mack | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Lick my uzi straight like that | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah My tech, my mack | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Lick my uzi straight like that | |
| Scarface talking | |
| Dedicated to my homeboy Pac | |
| Love daddy | |
| Facemob in the house | |
| Fat Joe and it don' t stop | |
| Come on |
| zuò cí : Cartagena, Clinton, Collins ... | |
| Excuse me while I sing to you | |
| I' m being real and that' s the thing to do | |
| I' m just living and loving | |
| Smoking and g Yeah uh | |
| Out here on the grind, yeah Alchemist this beat is stupid fresh | |
| If I can' t get no love then I can touch you | |
| t is fly, throw back ya heard me | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| We ridin' on these s come on | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Yeah, Terror Squad | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah It' s goin' down my s | |
| Stunna, Face, Joe Crack the Don | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Fat Joe | |
| You mother s must be crazy | |
| I been doin' this t since the eighties | |
| Run up in yo crib, snatch ya baby babybaby | |
| It' s the kid still holdin' the crown | |
| Now that they give it I' m holdin' a pound | |
| And I' m lookin' for some bustas who be actin' like them s do dirt | |
| Come to find out they ain' t put in no work | |
| An now my feelings is hurt | |
| Cause they decided that they wanted to murk | |
| But I' ma chase ' em to the end of the Earth | |
| Cause I' m a mother' rider | |
| You can see the pain in my face | |
| Got no problem exchangin' the hate | |
| They got me fightin' a case | |
| And if I blow will I face a fifteen | |
| And I' ll probably do it all in the pen | |
| But yo I' m livin' with it | |
| Death before dishonor for my s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride ha ha ha | |
| Death before dishonor for my s that ride | |
| A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride | |
| You mother s need to know that | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Baby | |
| Hey Joe | |
| We gon' ball like dogs but keep it gangsta | |
| I' m a guerilla on the streets but it' s time for the fun time | |
| Out of line, I bust with my tech nine | |
| Choose ya loose, I give ya the blues | |
| Ol' ass with his ass crews | |
| It' s the murder man mack, I stash in the Lac | |
| I bought my bricks from these dro back stacks | |
| It' s the Birdman baby come and holla at me later | |
| Duck ass s, we deal with ' em later | |
| First you, go to the mall and you ball like a dog | |
| And we drop the car, then holla at ya boy | |
| Tell them ass s, break bread with the boy | |
| Joe, they breakin' bread with the boy | |
| Tell Big Pun , Stunna ride for the boy | |
| Win or lose I ride for my boy | |
| It' s the BM gangsta, the DBoy Click | |
| We mash on bustas and we flip these bricks | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you | |
| Scarface | |
| s tell me money talk | |
| But bull t is walkin' out on four feet | |
| That' s why I' m ridin' on ya whole street | |
| I' ll be a till it' s said and done | |
| I' m from a section where ya fight till ya die cause ya never run | |
| I keep my forty cal ed cause these s on my block bang | |
| Right up the street from where the cops hang | |
| And in my head I hear Pac sang | |
| And then them ru n' memories make me cry till I can' t stop man | |
| Tell my mama I' m a killer if I happen to die | |
| That' s how I lived, ain' t no sense in me lyin' | |
| My whole life' s filled with danger | |
| Never been a stranger to homicide | |
| My neighborhood' s full of gangstas and drivebys | |
| And s fightin' for position | |
| The demon has risen from out of prison | |
| Now I' m losin' my religion | |
| That' s how I' m feeling when I' m ' with you | |
| Cause I don' t with you, now I' m bustin' at you | |
| So you dude | |
| Chorus | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah Terror Squad, Facemob uh | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Cash Money Millionaires uh come on | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah My tech, my mack | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Lick my uzi straight like that | |
| I' d rather touch you, yeah My tech, my mack | |
| ' Stead I' d rather bust at you Lick my uzi straight like that | |
| Scarface talking | |
| Dedicated to my homeboy Pac | |
| Love daddy | |
| Facemob in the house | |
| Fat Joe and it don' t stop | |
| Come on |
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