Ok..ég varð að sýna ykkur þennan texta..gerði hann ekki sjálfur..en þetta er mesta snilld sem ég veit um. Tveir gaurar frá Brooklyn, Þvíklíkt hardcore..kalla sig M.O.P. En þeir geta slakað á og leyft fólki að heyra og sjá snilldar texta tilfinningalega séð..
check this out..

It took me 24 years to figure out what makes this world go round
It's not man holding ground with dope sound
We gots to ask
Why do you feel that a meal can make you ill
When you know that Broke Bill can still
See right through your plastic ass
Before crack was a sport and we had thoughts of getting busy
Before death left, and fame had his way
The town: Brownsville
The place: The Ill
Follow the trail of resh blood drips you'll end up on my bricks
The Marks:
Home of the warrior thrown home
Our true thugs that's dead and gone
In the hills most effective chrome
Return to these graves
Showin youngsters what I'm facin
Cause we had trouble
We been strugglin since single shot gauges
That's straight ghetto bad luck
But, I done passed up more shit
Than you may ever touch
What, we on sacred grounds
Without the guidance of our fathers
All we know is how to double clutch revolvers
Me and my own staff flaunt a different path
I'm tryin to dip shit minus in your highness
The finest of kickin half
Honest to god, I'm layin down my card
It's been hard, for too many years
Blood sweat and tears

These 3 words
(Man got somethin to say)
Blood, sweat, tears
(MOP Family)
These 3 words
(We went to the death, we knew he was dead and gone)
Blood, sweat, tears
(We comin all the way from New York City, hear me out)
These 3 words
Blood, sweat, tears
These 3 words
Blood, sweat, tears

Go head nigga
A whole lot changed since my brother left
(I can feel you baby)
And since my mother's death
(I can feel you baby)
But as time past, I could see my life flash
Leavin the body and there's no breath
(I can feel ya)
I chose not to let my beretta swing
Cause I'm a veteran
And I'm livin for the better things
It's cold-hearted B
Check the majority of blacks
They slingin crack, livin in poverty
(True life testament)
What you gotta do is live what your life give
And make the best of it
(Try to see the rest of it)
Cause you could easily fall victim to these streets
And death's most definate
(Blood)
Is for the brothers that died
The mothers that cried
The brothers that tried
All we do is
(Sweat)
Steady puttin to work
Handling dirt
Holding your turf
We all shed
(Tears)
For the loved ones
The thug ones
And all deceased peers
And while these other cats play hard
Im'a praise god
And thank god that I'm here
Blood sweat and tears

These 3 words
(Til the break of dawn)
Blood, sweat, tears
(Birella)
These 3 words
(Til the break of dawn)
Blood, sweat, tears
(21 gun salute)