A-Team (Ransom & Hitchcock) - Murdah Muzik [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro]
[Driver:]
Now you never go at Jefferson huh?
[Jackie Cogan:]
My friend, Thomas Jefferson is an American saint
Because he wrote the words 'All men are created equal'
Words he clearly didn't believe
Since he allowed his own children to live in slavery
He's a rich white snob who's sick of paying taxes to the Brits
So, yeah, he writes some lovely words
And aroused the rabble and they went and died for those words
While he sat back and drank his wine and fucked his slave girl
This guy wants to tell me we're living in a community?
Don't make me laugh
I'm living in America
And in America you're on your own
America's not a country. It's just a business
Now fuckin' pay me


[Verse 1: Hitchcock]
We like a platoon, I be with some wild wild boys
In the saloon killin like some wild cowboys
Bow down boys, and you could eat chow down boys
Or get hit with the pound sound boy
Fuck a shot, I don’t fuck with cops nigga, I’m like Al Capone
Once they release you they gon eat you outta house and home
Cock back, leave your mouth with chrome
You been a hater, dump you in incinerators, never found yo bones
Now we got the coke back bouncing
We cocaine cowboys, we Brokeback Mountain
Flow like a fountain, throw on a thousand
900 stacks, that’s racks, you in housing
We tryna get real estate
Do the right thing, left it right wing in the real estate
I feel the hate as I feel the buzz
Build a buzz sorta like the high that you feel from drugs
And I don’t need rehab
I could play with The Rock, this shit off like Steve Nash
Medicinal though, got the weed pass
Everything official the flow, I can see cash
Money, everybody gully
Full clip in my wall reach with the skully
Snug fit on my thug shit
Got that 38 with the snub tip
I ain’t stressin please, u stressed at D's
Powder every where, like Zeppoles
Why you all timid?
‘Cus my pockets got a buldge in it?
I’m in the hood and I indulge in it
Authentic, yall fabricated
The whips all tinted, just done masqueraded that I had to say
‘Cus now I’m getting aggravated
I’m mad they hated, they never congratulated

[Verse 2: Ransom]
Niggas mad I don't show gratitude
Walk in these rapper shoes
I ain’t gotta respect these niggas who paid half the dues
I can scream out names but then what that'll prove?
Jerry Heller, these fat niggas who got an attitude
This is our coast, pull strings like a tar nose
Turn a live nigga into compost
There ain’t no convos ‘cus eulogy is coming to in 3’s
Through the greeze you can freeze in the coolest breeze
Think you should leave, niggas ain’t too into yo' bars
Cus niggas pointin fingers Arsenio Hall
There’s a live band playing, gun in the guitar case
Scarface, shootout speeding while in a car chase
Both the gav niggas on park place
Raw apes, look at the look at Nicki Minaj’ face
Look at these phony niggas you call great
I lost faith between shootouts, killings and court dates
I’m brass, what can I say?
Filthiest nigga in the church like can I pray?
Grimiest nigga on the bench like can I play?
And leave these incognito niggas MIA ah
People that judge us, I bet they suffer twice
Drop the ME’s, nigga look up to Christ
You ain’t gotta believe, nigga I’m fuckin nice
Me and Hitch best two men ever to clutch a mic