Novatore the Cyborg - Rap Game Frank Nitty [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Novatore]

Born and bred to cure infections like Amoxicillin
I Run the city like the outfit did in 31
I keep my tongue game dangerous like Dumille
Rap game Frank Nitty, lyrics be the tommy gun
Connie Chung brings you the latest of my antics
187, murder, homicide its all semantics
I'm in the local bar chilin w my heratics
A mix of goons, cotton balls, Pinnochios and lampwicks
I Go from Charlie Sheen to Manson in a millisecond
Military tactical precision on the opposition
He just a hustler not the rowdy type to bust back
Moves everything that he can sell from dub sacks to hub caps
Stab any fuckin backs connected to a cold shoulder
Mob soldiers leave you stranded in a river
Cut the tongues from the witnesses and mail them out
For any snitches thats the message we deliver

[Cho]
I've got a golden tongue, I keep it witty
I got a court case in the burbs and in the city
I never testify, snitches be a dying breed
..al capone thuggin rap game frank nitty

[Verse 2: Novatore]

Verbal attack, kill Morans crew in February
Lyrically sharp like the skinheads and the blades we carry
Very rarely do i lose cuz i'm ridiculous
Like a crime boss that dies off from syphillis
Sift through my syllabus I got more lessons than a teacher
Kid I wanna hear your skills before I do the feature
Box up some moonshine we'll sell it on consignment
Those who lose the merchandise well see us turn to creatures
Fuck the bleachers yo I'm on the court like Toni Kukoc
Abandon practice in conspiracy with Henry Hill
Choke you out like the Sprewell time to find a new coach
Shaven points for my Cadillac Coupe De ville
Blood to spill, call Alphonse tell him whats the deal?
Who's getting wacked out and buried in a desert
You can tell from the murder scene that someone talked
Loose lips sink ships, unless their sewn together

[Cho]

[Verse 3: Novatore]

Tax evasion wouldn't take me down I keep it clean
Keep it squeaky cross my T's and kill the private eyes
Elliot Ness with the fat black binoculars
Crimes american like lawsuits and apple pie
Pistol missing might get poked up like acupuncture
Hollywood extortion put the cash in the sack
Tight spaces make me panic yo I'm claustrophobic
Tell the waiter that there's no way I'm goin back
Walls closing in I rather hit the casket
Losin my breath like a head wrapped in plastic
The golden days gone we used to be the rum runners
Before the vegas cats would skim cash and run numbers
Zuit suits and a penguin tux like Cobblepot
Wet work kill the rats off and let 'em rot
32 for breakfast lying in a train yard
Die by my own hands it'd only take me one shot