Sanghera - 1991 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
Think you got me on a 91
Fuck roaches, always crawling on my china
Serpent tongues always rolling with the fire
Think I'm on ropes. I'm A li on the wire
Air Jordans on the mat of my dryer, arm and hammer and the armor for the climate
Getting fly and talking down some pilots, hard enough without this Americana' Mileage
(Kill Him) do I need to need to, money got his number like a mother fucking pay phone
Weight from the chains wrapped all around his ankles 6 feet deep in a suit and some pesos
And a face load, buck shots on the payroll, (Real fucking ugly) Man if you say so
Miracles whipped to the form of some mayo, chugging down some fat all they breathe is the draino
I got bangers in hangers, return of that gangster
No arrival of the of the Sanghera (Who's that brown) gold tipped in a kangol
Alone at the table, 6 shots in the chamber, so I'll take my shot while you can wait for the chaser
Born so abrasive, hating chains and their masters, facing basic bitches like they don't know who's the greatest
I hate it
I mean damn. What what, You know what's fucked up
I had 2 shots, and bae now 2 shots has you fucked up
On the cusp of an OD with some molly, what are you thirteen, you gangstas 140 characters your character, what fucking currs
Yawk yawk yawk it's complicated
I'm not a saint but I'm obligated
To bless you, sanctified I'll test you and the rest too
So this hi top fade at your neck like a switch
Blade will cut you off like a light from a switch
I'll cut a blogger down before his pitch gets an inch
Fat Ass white girls and thugs get a ten
Rhymes I hope I die a hologram, on an ottoman I'm falling in
Fuck talking then, I hate twitter, fucking rocking with, seriously I really hate twitter
Nothing to say but everywhere to say it
Nothing to live but we tweeting that they live it
I'm just on what I'm on and I'll say what I want
So bitch I'm feeling like I'm winning
And I did it in the kitchen
2 shots and I'm feeling so efficient
No JR I'm sweating in the Lincoln
I got shooters in Miami more afraid then a Nixon
And you two afraid to Witness
Pulp in my juice like I'm dancing with the fiction
Flexing like I never woke up out this gymnast
More Louboutins on my bitch then a Christian
What an ego he makes it seem so regal
Way I'm living Timothy Tebow, all these c-notes followed by sequels
And my wallets looking all Cee-Lo, Molly full of placebo
Follow me like free throws - take an inch I'll take a kilo
Got more cuffs on my wrist then Watergate
Don't know me but damn you just gotta hate
Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate, you just gotta hate
Haters ball baby you were born to play
Revenge is so sweet I'm eating all I savor
My verses are so dope man I might run for your Mayor