Blast Holiday - Crack Republican [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Blast Holiday]

I'm feeling like a

Crack Republican rushing all the knocks in
59 corner is my office, ?
Nothing that's life, kill the lights in his office
I once heard defense is the best offense
So I'm Ron Artest soon as the ball's in
All I want is the Spalding
It's like you need help moving we'll bring the U-Hauls in
Acting like a bitch when I thought we was all men
Think I was his boss by the way that he called in
Streets was quicksand, can't you see how we falling?
All Hot Boys but never been to New Orleans
You ain't my daddy who the fuck is you boying?
Vibrate the pussy like she got her a toy in
Her best friend paying so of course she could join in
Jumped on top pussy popped double-jointed
That shit ain't impressing, give me guap roll a joint bitch
This for all my brothers in the joint snitch
Run the team, I must be a point bitch
All in the cuts like ointments, appointments
With thoroughbred mob niggas, murder off of Mob Figaz
Guns make the job quicker
Give me all you got and like fruits you'll rot nigga
Lost N Da Muzik's at the top nigga
Triple beam, microphone, these pots and a lot of liquor
Hella weed and a lot of swishers
Slugs light up suckas BBS's they just light up wrists (bling)
Like what we do to shine ain't worth the risks
I'm a shark, ain't worried bout half you fishes
I just hit home runs, throw faster pitches
Computer hacker, Blast so past the glitches
Just hit home runs throw faster pitches
Computer hacker, Blast so past the glitches

[Verse 2: Mike Larry]

I'm feeling like a

Strapped Republican, never will I muzzle in
My words of thought, the birds is soft, the syrup is raw
Lil birdies all in my car
Tryna suck me off while I'm rear-viewing the law, yeah...
I know they wanna put me under in jail
I'm like fuck 'em I'd rather be in hell
No tolerance when it come to hood politics
Model chicks tryna pay me a grip
Gripping that fifth, while Blast puffing that piff
In all black, scoping out your residence on a lick
I be Wade and he Lebron on some South Beach Heat shit
Mouthpiece closed like a bitch on some freak shit
Y'all niggas clowns, peep the times on some creep shit
I'm on some silk bed sheet shit, God...
And that's word to my savior
If your bitch was drowning I still wouldn't save her
Mini-ARs play broads
Wannabe fake stars, whipping in the kitchen like cake wars
Play 'em out the cake and pitch 'em like baseball
I'm tryna retire from them birds like Cal Ripken
More relevant than selling shit we really live this
You niggas just witnessed, sizing up my inches
Were they 25's, 19's or 21's?
Foreign whips come with odd numbers, get you one
Came from the slums where we pack guns
We ain't taking no Bull, like John Paxson
Niggas tryna track my moves no GPS
These hoes fighting over my kids, like CPS
And that's the reason why I wear a vest on my chest
And a Magnum on my- uh, you know the rest
And after this song, you know who the best is
From the West hands down, Ghost Town I rep