DJ Swet & Milano Constantine - Tuffer Than Dice (con N-Wise Allah)

Producido por: DJ Swet

Letra de Tuffer Than Dice (con N-Wise Allah)

[Estribillo N-Wise Allah] (x2)
Ayo, Milano, dime qué pasó… Otro palo
Ten cuidado, beware del veterano
Let it rain on these palomasos, sin hambre no hay hustle
Still putting it down por si acaso


Yeah, y’all niggas fabricating stories
From these raps I made the glory, “warrior” tattooed on me
Shit, I’m a different category, pockets filled with chicken cacciatore
Biochemist in the laboratory backup off me

Six feet social distance, niggas make motion pictures
So definitive, niggas mimic think it’s dope up in it
Chauffeur driven suburban trucks, yeah, Koko B. Ware
Y’all niggas birds to us, wrap you up in Persian rugs

Words are murderous, load the ammo, put up your dough to gamble
Niggas carry sticks, no Roman candles, soldiers’ll blam you
Joe DiMaggio, I’m a legend, you know my status, though
Antidote, bury you niggas up in the catacombs

This Salvatore Ferragamo kid, nigga, my moto is
Ringside Cus D’Amato shit, Moët bottles in the fridge
Louis the 16th, Coogis in mint green
I gave you slick things, is Constantine been in the greedy streets

Gun fire like the Middle East, a little yeast that’ll make the bread rise
Colombian necktie, those your best rhymes?
Scrub niggas, Left Eye, Chilli and T-Boz
D’s in a Nissan flew overseas to recharge

Boricua and africano, super fly bagging y’all hoes
In back off the Tahoe pockets filled with cilantro
My shit knock, though, ultraviolet make the crops grow
Twenty plus in this shit, nigga, hell of a milestone

Romeo and Julieta, came with a few muñecas
On my block, with some Latin Kings and a few ñetas
Niggas catch up, chain all VVS
My boys selling pill out his crib, think it’s a CVS

The fiends geeking, yes, got ‘em scratching like the 1200s
World summit, sat with OGs and got some pearls from it
My shit raw like “Liquid Sword”, “4th Chamber”
See me fly in some cross trainers, scientist’s how my thoughts create it

Harlem nights like Richard Pryor
Catch me riding in a hybrid, Mobb Deep’s “Temperature’s Rising”
Infamous keep penning all this thrilling shit
My hill is lite Manhattan Av, where hustlers and killers live


[Estribillo N-Wise Allah] (x2)
Ayo, Milano, dime qué pasó… Otro palo
Ten cuidado, beware del veterano
Let it rain on these palomasos, sin hambre no hay hustle
Still putting it down por si acaso

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