Saafir - Not Fa' Nuthin' [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Chino XL
Saafir]
You locked down with no bail money to get yourself loose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
I hit you girl for free and that's alright wit' 'chu?
Not fa' nuttin'!
That's not what a thug would do
Nope
Caught slippin' wit' no heat inside your bubblegoose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
Pretty skillianaire niggas about to spit it at 'chu?
Not fa' nuthin', that's somethin' that a thug'd do!

[Saafir]
Not fa' nuttin'. I'll jump out that mild-mannered frame of glasses
And start whuppin' your ass. It's the rap game killa masta
Kid who has a pool room with business and non-stop blastin' shit
Tore cagenin' in what your lungs' incased in
No comic book animation, just assassination
All you fake-ass nigs would kill a fasination
Cosmetic niggas would feel this villain plastic facement
Call me Father Red, but for you, you think I'mma get a higher rankin'?
You fly cats is chickens, you featherless
While you tryin' to get millions, I'm trainin' as a United States terrorist!
Drombin' these bomb before your planes get off the ground
Blowin' out the pilot and all flames that sound the same
Y'all niggas is B-12 bumped up wit' a pound of fame
I'm thirty-two degrees below freezin' in the game
But some of you love, gettin' crossed in the pair of pliars
I'mma call high yellow nigga keepin' hoes duckin' like a hair dryer

[Chino XL
Saafir]
You locked down with no bail money to get yourself loose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
I hit you girl for free and that's alright wit' 'chu?
Not fa' nuttin'!
That's not what a thug would do
Nope
Caught slippin' wit' no heat inside your bubblegoose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
Pretty skillianaire niggas about to spit it at 'chu?
Not fa' nuthin', that's somethin' that a thug'd do!

[Chino XL]
I kick that fly shit, my shit is New Jersey drive shit
That B.-I.-G. 'Ready To Die' shit, 2Pac 'All Eyez' shit
That classic hot shit, Jag in garage shit
You braggin', ain't got shit. Complainin' 'bout my shit
PaChino's above average. Product of a mixed marriage
I'm violent, you better be silent like the 'J' in spanish
Immacurate, saw moons and stars and flames in back of it
Rap past the untalented. Dangerous, haters try to silence it
Couldn't accomplish it. I'm bringin' the ruckus, I promise it
My skills are polished it. 'You wack, nigga.' I'm wack's opposite
Drama's been poision pen venom bent up inside of your brain
My lyrical syringes for dope fiends to take my name in vein
Physical frame, the heron Frankie Lyman over-dosed on
I'm strong, I make you look weaker than Usher wit' no shirt on
I still attack tracks like two young-G raps
This industry's ill, it's a bunch of hyperchondriachs
And I'mma smack ya face off ya face for bitin' rhymes
Like I've more skills than you niggas if you practiced for three lifetimes
Lyrical hangtime. You wacker. Jump in the time machine
And soft the vagina that half of these rappas came out of

[Saafir
Chino XL]
You locked down with no bail money to get yourself loose?
Not fa' nuthin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
I hit you girl for free and that's alright wit' 'chu?
But not fa' nuthin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
You caught slippin' wit' no heat inside your bubblegoose?
But not fa' nuthin'
That's not what a thug would do. Pretty
Skillianaire niggas about to spit it at 'chu?
But not fa' nuthin', that's somethin' that a thug'd do!

[Chino XL
Saafir]
I shine like Bruce Willis's bald spot in the sun rays
I'm a mad rappa, beat you like the editor of 'Blaze'!
For real cause Bill Clinton look like George Clinton cause he got
Funked with Parliament, the Congress but I done funked all of it!
Sick tales from the male Mary Magdaline. Chino's so raveshing
You couldn't double X-L if you was the magazine
The black Nazerine, takin' charism. The hell in the battle
You mix with sugar and shit spice, you're not add ho!
You're gettin' sex pay-back from my lyrical syntex
Nigga, ya index finga wouldn't trigga a bottle of Windex
And I forgot more lyrics then you will ever write. Tight wild like
Eddie Murphey gettin' caught with that transvestite on that night
You cats might get put to sleep like pills I be nodding on
Foldin' niggas' Averexes while they still got 'em on!
Buildin' underground side holes with lights dimmer than the ones in
Biggie Smalls's hallways. Colder than a menthol lip that's
Haulin' rap in the fall. My foot deep in the ass of
Niggas that's Glock rhymin' me. I do to your future, dog
I'm savage. That word is describin' me
("Scribin' me. Scribin' me...")
Chianardo DiCaprio been known to slap a ho
What?
I'm from that indian tribe called Nava-love-a-ho
I'm ill when I'm behind the feline butt-crack
They say, 'How do you stay hard as hell?'
It's the barbell ring in my nutsac!

[Chino XL
Saafir]
You locked down with no bail money to get yourself loose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
I hit you girl for free and that's alright wit' 'chu?
Not fa' nuttin'!
That's not what a thug would do
Nope
Caught slippin' wit' no heat inside your bubblegoose?
Not fa' nuttin'
That's not what a thug would do
Uh-uh
Pretty skillianaire niggas about to spit it at 'chu?
Not fa' nuthin', that's somethin' that a thug'd do! ("Uh-huh.")