Dirty Sanchez - 147 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Dirty Sanchez]
Dirty Sanchez, and I got dirty presidents
Tell your bitch that we at the back door kicking it
Mix the light of hash with the spliff in it
My lungs are blacker than licorice so they match with my timberlands
Missy didn't hit the L yet but, I'm super duper fly man
Aviators on no helmet
Capital STEEZ helped us formulate a team
Now it's cool all week, 45 to 47 degrees
Fuck school though, them hoes scoot over
95 maxima the new range rovers
It feels like we space traveling
With a eighth and lava lamp, niggas just wishing we'd throw the towel in
Tiedye mental now kill the game we bound to win
Crown and caged we proceed yall pre-game
All our proceeds are sprouting now we reigning
Dirty motherfucker this game what we staining

[Hook: Dirty Sanchez]
And you don't stop it's still 147 on an undercover cop
And you don't stop it's still 147 on an undercover cop

[Verse 2: Rokamouth]
From an AK get em to a motherfucking cop
Fuck is they repping for trying to lock me up for pot
It's too bad that these bullets ain't gon make you niggas stop
Cause the way that they be watching if these faggots want the cock
Why they plot on a nigga? Guess they think I'm selling rock
Cause my knots grown bigger, I'm saving for the top
Just to drop ya'll quicker, fuck what you heard beast coast gon get ya
And when we come get ya bring ya spot on the stretcher
I'm a real hot stepper fighting hard for this cheddar
And only getting better do this shit in any weather
And if you really clever watch your head for your head get severed

[Hook: Rokamouth]

[Verse 3: A La $ole]
As I walk through the streets in the alleys of Brooklyn
Feins is on a scheme mad cops is crookin' you shooken
Just look kid, this ain't your average playground
Bodides in the garbage so them niggas never play round
Just stay down, cause stray bullets might leave your face looking
Destructed, young ruckus can't touch this
Fake MC's, get the ham and no bluffing
They say the kids ill, no I'm fucking disgusting
The bucket brim low, the all black timbos
Wear the lumberjack got a Brooklyn mental
We fresher than mentos, you cats is all weak
Spending heat on momentum never stand on our feet
Each stanza I demand these answers in my hand
Ready for fortune and my times are for grand
Just understand God these streets is murderous
I know you heard of us, you ain't hurting us
It's looking worse for ya, we need a hearse for ya
Better quit while you're ahead or get murked in a
New York minute you'll get smoked like you Newport living
They want beef but MC's only be grillin'

[Hook: A La $ole]

[Verse 4: Joey BADA$$]
Puff puff, pass the dutchy to the righteous man
Heights expand, what we like the contraband
Hit the road with a conscious band
Flow rugged raw shit and
Filled with intoxicants
So the groupie girls pop lock it in
Drop it like it's hotter than tropic land
Tropacan in a can, Cancun on a can am, Dee got the cam
Found yo ex on the beach, yo call me the sandman
Got the queen of dancehall on a handstand
Don't worry bout what car I be in it got your BM in it
Dark tinted, so you can't see him in it
Sharp splinters, told him it'll be a minute
Of blood stains thicker than wood grain
Thinking they would gain but your hood blamed
Production of your environmental conception
Wishin' you was let into which you was not let in
Flourishing through flows that let you hours
True coffee flowers for hours
True MC's they move beef with cowards
Me and Powers discovered our powers when we hit the sours
Word to my brother STEEZ, I pack with the loudest so much green
When we hit spliffs it's like we hit the lotto
That's the lotto cause "Life's a bitch" is still a motto
But that ain't the only reason we get high tho

[Hook: Joey BADA$$]

[Outro]
"Local Hip Hop Group Pro Era 47 insists that they do not spray this graffiti around the neighbourhood, but they do say they designed the image and that is the number 47, they say it's meant to represent peace and balance."