Buddha Monk - Paco's Kid [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro: Buddha Monk]

Yo, it's the B, the U, the D

The D, the H, the A

And we go by the unforgetable name

The Duck Lo Production coming in your area

Bring it to your ass live, and direct, huh



[Hook 2X: Buddha Monk]

Paco's kid, man, paco's king, whoa

Paco's kid, bang bang...



[Buddha Monk]

I think that it's best you profane you crew

From this murderous blood spills and move when the Buddha's ill

Fuck the rap shit, I spit with clips

Take a pick, whether day or night, I'm good with hits

And you could call your out of niggas, I'm Brooklyn bound, nigga

Make a hit with two clips and make it drip

My guns hold, are surely remarkable

Who got the eye on me, will die by me

Don't think on wanted man, that my shit ain't tight

I love a good gun fight, you wanna get it on, tonight, pa?

Fuck, Daddy Warbucks, me and easy in the cut

Push the button one more time, you shit out of luck, fuck



[Hook 2X w/ ad-libs]



[Lite]

I wet you up like you stuck in the rain, fuck ice
Murder numb on a chain, you want beef, no peeps

Just me coming with one of them things, that'll pop through

The driver door side of your range, I catch a cold

Every time I tuck in my chain, the rings got jealous

Cuz the hoes wanna play with the chain

Cops looking for my face, so I switched my name

And the fiends stop coming on the block til I switched my cane

And I had to look different so I threw on the frames

Just like my gun hanging, out of a plane

Speak my name and the bullets'll rain

Who you know that rock more chains on they neck than a runaway slave

You softer than that cotton that they puff in them days

When I bust, duck, tuck in yo chain, you a nigga with cornrolls?

Then I put one in your braids, I got guns

That come out of the closet quicker than gays

Fuck condoms, I'm looking for AIDS

Talking breezy, you can still feel the heat in the shade

I talk sour but it ain't lemonade

Ya'll niggas running like ya'll roaches and my gun is the Raid

Only time I bust shots in the air, if I got an enemy up in a plane

Don't hate the player, nigga, hate the game

Ain't no more driving, my niggas, cuz we taking a plane

And if I do, I'm driving straight where I'm going, fuck switching the lane

Bang bang



[Hook]



[Lee-Major]

Bang bang, it's heavy mental, for you jump into, offa instrumental

I gang bang my slang and initiate my beats

The off product out on the street

Make all my peeps eat, offa royalties and spoiled treats

Hoodies for you tees, with maxin', textin', wreckin' your section, non-stop

I'm reppin', my BK connection, colabo

Don't hate the game, hate the players that got it all smashed, yo



[Hook]