BrasÃÂÂlia 5:31
(Herbert Vianna)
Quartos de hotel são iguais
Dias são iguais
Os aviões são iguais
Meninas iguais
Não há muito que falar sobre o dia
Não há do que reclamar
Tudo caminha
E as horas passam devagar
Num ônibus de linha
Passos no corredor, alguém se aproxima
E uma voz estranha diz: "Bom Dia"
Posso pedir os jornais
Pedir o jantar
Ligar pra tantos ramais
Niguém pra falar
Sobre o vermelho que abre este dia
Tudo está no lugar em que não devia
O mundo sai pra trabalhar
Enquanto eu abro a água fria
Um estranho no espelho
Eu quase nem me conhecia
E uma voz estranha diz:
"Bom dia!"Verse 1:
My old school homey took a fall
His blood hit the mutha fuckin wall
Ran to the trunk and got the AK cause the funk was on
It felt like Christmas Day
I got a present and it come with a banana clip
Santa Claus mutha fucka meet the hollow tip
But let me get to the trunk so they fucked up
Now I抦 慴out to explode, niggas suckin chrome up
Kick down the door and started spraying
My nigga on the ground eyes wide open dead layin
Busted a nigga in the back rat-a-tat-tat
His blood hit the floor first, I heard his back crack
Sounds of a mutha fuckin murder the ghetto got me insane
to my damn brain
Never leavin the house without my glock nine
You can抰 stop crime, so I抦a cock mine
The other nigga had a baby mack, and he was off the crack
He shot and missed and I shot back
But we both hit the floor, what the fuck for
I caught a bullet up in my chest and I didn抰 know
But the bulletproof vest was on G
so I kept buckin at his ass like a donkey
And when I tried to run and get out the pig put the glock to my mouth
As I was...
Chorus:
Runnin out da crackhouse out da crackhouse
(repeat 3X , 4th = runnin out da mutha fuckin crackhouse)
Verse 2:
Cop had his finger on the mutha fuckin trigga
Screamin some shit about a barbecued nigga
I had a pocket full of æ…¶ane and a bloody gat
I went insane when they blasted my cutty mack
He was my potna lackin (?????)
But I don抰 think he抣l be alive for too mu