Apollo Brown & Guilty Simpson - Nasty [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Hook]
Don't it make you feel alright?
Say it again
*yeahhh*
Say it a little louder
*yeahhhhh*

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
Yeah
I should call this liver
V8 Juice, black licorice nasty
You can't outclass me
Too much street savvy
I speak stern
Picture me robbin' a cabbie
I used to put regs in baggies
Now I puff meds of algae
I crumple up pieces of bong hits
And load 'em in my M420
(Then what?)
And provoke more envy
Send me my dough in advance
Steal from me?
And leave with a hole in your hand
Yeah
The heater stay clipped up
Your chick is a walking strip club
We throw her the dough and she dance...wherever
I better bet her I'm better, bet a motherfuckin' bow
I'm doin' rappers bold
I punch his lights out like, "Damn, he's out cold."
I slaughter for my honor, you leave with head trauma

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Planet Asia]
All hail the fly wise men
My enterprise been on the rise and
I see you sizin' us
Large bark leaf, dark leaf, blendin' my broccoli
The pot in me has got me seein' it all sparkly
I'm a mobster
Loungin' with my bitch eatin' Long Beach lobster
I love me some fish
And them hatin' ass niggas wanna know if my shit sells
I'm good in the hood as long as I got fish scale
You'll never find a nigga that's this real
To ash blunts on the Aston and treat a Benz like a big wheel
And you ain't gotta tell me my shit's ill
Cause if I leave with your main squeeze that bitch will
And you better sit still
And chill when I fell for the jooks
Niggas get billed and killed for the fraudulent looks
For the big bills I'm mobbin' with the gods and the crooks
And I guarantee you that shit'll slap hard in the trunk

[Hook]

[Verse Three: Guilty Simpson]
Big dog, I'm a Rottweiler
I'm gettin' bread, I'm a stockpiler
I'm cold-hearted for a hot dollar
See rappers gettin' buzzed tryin' to sound like me
I just smile like a proud father
Loud ganja
You think I give a fuck about your list?
Them clowns don't exist
That's how I feel with a skill set like this
I hit 'em with a black fist
? style afro pick
The gats go click and clack at 'em
He holler back at 'em
With more force
I'm all for us
To travel to your home court
(What?)
And go to work to work with a blow torch
Torched ya scorched ya whole corpse
There's no remorse for 'em
Talkin' ain't enough, we use brute force on em
We never let it ride
So violate mine?
Just know
You cats got a war comin'

[Hook]