Horseshoe G.A.N.G - Here We Go [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Julius Luciano]
Im the truth, but no sole journer
My rims killa, the door suicide, low low murda
Tell yo ho slurp on my long pole
My mojo work her, I coach home herds of
Bad divas, I'mma fast teacha, I'm no slow learner
The flow gone murk ya
If not, Im at yo show, in wo-fo??
The fo’ fo’ burn ya
Shots finna melt ya skin, oh no derma-
Tologist, helpin him, I goes on further
Dollars you sell then spend, slow dough earner
Not getting wealthy, seen, got my nina
And my wife beater, call us Ike and Tina but though I'm no Turner
Oh, Im oh so dope, bonkos, no
Most hoes, jump on my sticks like pogos, words
On my oh roll, Crook showed me the ropes
Goes so hard, now Im no joke, word up!

[Hook: Kenny Siegel]
Up in the club, yeah - with my thugs, yeah (Here we go)
If niggas mug, yeah - I got the snub, yeah (Here we go)
Poppin bub, yeah - a couple sluts, yeah (Here we go)
Tryna cut, yeah - Im tryna touch, yeah (Here we go)
Where the hoes, point em out
Where they at, there they go
Let em know, what we bout
Throwin stacks like EY! (EY)…EY! (EY)…EY! (EY)
We throwin stacks like EY! (EY)…EY! (EY)…EY! (EY)

[Verse 2: Kenny Siegel]
I tell the jeweler stone me, throw some rocks on me
Then I'll go out and loiter the cold streets of Long Beach
Searchin for a chicken who might loan me her dome piece
Im living when I stroll, yeah, Im pimpin when Im lozy??
You know me like virgins, I never give a fuck
Ima boss listen up, I toss chickens up
That’s right I flip birds like I'm pitchin plenty of keys
Or givin people the finger, listen Siegel’s no singer
But I, blow notes, and yeah I hold notes
Im talkin them C-notes, and yeah I throw notes
My fitted brim is touchin my nose, its so low
But I still see you haters, so a mugs a no-no
Cuz my strap love smoking and blowing, it stay loaded
I'll go in your clothes, then shots’ll go in your clothing
Im holdin the, chromes, Ill pop, unload and explode it
My necklace is frozen, my watch is cold as my stroll is

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Dice Dinero]
Im pullin up back to the club, with a Dodger blue six
With about twenty karats hanging from my neck and wrist
In the VIP, popping nothing but bottles of Cris’
But it’ll popping that Glock, if niggas poppin they lips (yeah)
Im reppin the Circle Gang, and C-O-B around here (round here!)
Rockin white T’s and ice around here
You gotta respect my swag, my feet match my customized jag
Nobody on the corner got swag
Like Us, I stay on top of my cake like icing
I one night you bitches, that’s why you think I'm trifling
I use my heat to get dough, I pimp my ride
I swear to God, you chain-snatchas’ll fill up your ride
With bullets, cuz me and my clique don’t play that shit
We stay in the club, with a Glock and a clip
Mackin a bitch, makin it rain with a bottle of Hen’
Til the bartender yell his last call and then we out this bitch (C-O-B!)

[Hook]