Исполнитель: The Notorious B.I.G.

Перевод песни

Песня: I Got a Story to Tell
Who y'all talkin' to, man?
Uhh, check it out, check it out!
This here goes out to all the niggas that be fuckin' mad bitches in other niggas cribs, thinkin' shit is sweet,
Nigga creep up on your ass, ha ha ha!
Live niggas respect it.
Check it!

I kicked flows for ya, kicked down doors for ya,
Even left all my mothafuckin' hoes for ya,
Niggas think Frankie pussy-whipped,
Nigga, picture that with a Kodak, Insta-ma-tac.
We don't get down like that,
Lay my game down quite flat,
Sweetness, where you parked at?
Petiteness, but that ass fat,
She got a body make a nigga wanna eat that.
I'm fuckin' with you,
The bitch official, though, dick harder than a missile, yo,
Try to hit, if she trippin', disappearin' like Arsenio,
Yo, the bitch push a double-oh
With the five in front, probably a connivin' stunt.
Y'all drive in front, I'ma peel with her,
Find the deal with her, she fuck around and steal, huh?
Then we all get laced;
Televisions, Versace heaven, when I'm up in 'em,
The shit she kicked, all the shit's legit,
She get dick from a player off the New York Knicks,
Nigga tricked ridiculous, the shit was plush,
She's stressin' me to fuck, like she was in a rush.
We fucked in his bed, quite dangerous,
I'm in his ass while he playin' 'gainst the Utah Jazz,
My 112 CD blast, I was past,
She came twice, I came last, roll the grass.
She giggle, sayin' "I'm smokin' on home-grown"
Then I heard the moan, "Honey, I'm home!"
Yep, tote chrome for situations like this,
I'm up in his broad, I know he won't like this.
Now I'm like, "Bitch, you better talk to him
Before this fifth put a spark to him,
Fuck around, shit get dark to him, put a part through him,
Lose a major part to him—arm, leg..."
She beggin' me to stop but this cat gettin' closer,
Gettin' hot like a toaster, I cocks the toast, ugh.
Before my eyes could blink
She screams out, "Honey, bring me up somethin' to drink!"
He go back downstairs, more time to think,
Her brain racin', she's tellin' me to stay patient,
She don't know I'm cool as a fan,
Gat in hand, I don't wanna blast her man,
But I can and I will, though; I'm tryna chill, though,
Even though situation lookin' kinda ill, yo!
It came to me like a song I wrote,
Told the bitch, "Gimme your scarf, pillowcase, and rope!"
Got dressed quick, tied the scarf around my face,
Roped the bitch up, gagged her mouth with the pillowcase,
Play the cut, nigga comin' off some Love Potion shit,
Flash the heat on 'em, he stood emotionless,
Dropped the glass screamin', "Don't blast, here's the stash!
A hundred cash! Just don't shoot my ass, please!"
Nigga pullin' mad G's out the floor,
Put stacks in a Prada knapsack, hit the door,
Grab the keys to the five, call my niggas on the cell:
"Bring some weed, I got a story to tell, uhh."

— Yo, man, y'all niggas ain't gonna believe what the fuck happened to me. Remember that bitch I left the club with man?
— Yeah!
— Yo, freaky, yo! I'm up in this bitch, playa, this bitch fuckin' one of them ol' Knick ass niggas and shit. I'm up in the spot, so.
— Who, though?
— I don't know, I don't know. One of them six-five niggas, I don't know. Anyway, I'm up in the mothafuckin' spot. So boom! I'm up in the pussy, whatever, whatever. I sparks up some lah, pop duke creeps up in on some, must have been rained out or something because he's in the spot. Had me scared, had me scared to death, I was shook, daddy, but I forget I had my Roscoe on me. Always. You know how we do. So anyway the nigga comes up the stairs, he creepin' up the steps, the bitch all shook she sends the nigga back downstairs to get some drinks and shit. She gettin' mad nervous, I said, "Fuck that man! I'm the nigga, you know how we do it, nigga!" Ransom note style, put the scarf around my mothafuckin' face. Gagged that bitch up, played the kizzack. Soon this nigga comes up in the spot, flash the Desert in his face, he drops the glass. Looked like the nigga pissed on hisself or somethin', word to mother! Ahh, fuck it! This nigga runs dead to the floor, peels up the carpet, start givin' me mad papers, mad papers.
— I told you that bitch was a sheisty bitch, cuz! Word to mother, I used to fuck her cousin, but you ain't know that! You wouldn't know that shit. Really, though.
— I threw all that mothafuckin' money up in the Prada knapsack. Two words, I'm gone!
— No doubt, no doubt, no doubt!
— Yo, nigga, got some lye, y'all got some lye?












I Got a Story to Tell

[Intro:]
Who y'all talkin to man?
Uhh
Check it out, check it out
This here goes out
To all the n**gas that be fuckin mad bitches
In other n**gas cribs
Thinkin shit is sweet
N**ga creep up on your ass, hahaha
Live n**gas respect it, check it

[Verse 1:]
I kick flows for ya, kick down doors for ya
Even left all my motherfuckin hoes for ya
N**gas think Frankie pussy whipped, n**ga picture that
With a Kodak, Insta-ma-tak
We don't get down like that, lay my game down quite flat
Sweetness, where you parked at?
Petiteness but that ass fat
She got a body make a n**ga wanna eat that, I'm fuckin with you
The bitch official doe, dick harder than a missile yo
Try to hit, if she trippin disappearin like Arsenio
Yo, the bitch push a double-oh
With the five in front, probably a connivin stunt
Y'all drive in front, I'm a peel with her
Find the deal with her, she fuck around and steal, huh?
Then we all get laced
Television's, Versace heaven, when I'm up in em
The shit she kicked, all the shit's legit
She get dick from a player off the New York Knicks
N**ga tricked ridiculous, the shit was plush
She's stressin me to fuck, like she was in a rush
We fucked in his bed, quite dangerous
I'm in his ass while he playin' 'gainst the Utah Jazz
My 112, CD blast, hours passed
She came twice I came last, roll the grass
She giggle, sayin' "I'm smokin' on home-grown"
Then I heard the moan, "honey I'm home!"
Yep, tote chrome for situations like this
I'm up in his broad I know he won't like this
Now I'm like, "Bitch, you better talk to him
Before this fifth put a spark to him
Fuck around shit get dark to him, put a part through him
Lose a major part to him, arm, leg."
She beggin me to stop but this cat gettin closer
Gettin hot like a toaster, I cocks the toast, uhh
Before my eyes could blink
She screams out, "Honey bring me up somethin to drink!"
He go back downstairs more time to think
Her brain racin, she's tellin me to stay patient
She don't know I'm, cool as a fan
Gat in hand, I don't wanna blast her man
But I can and I will though, I probably chill though
Even though situation lookin' kinda ill yo
It came to me like a song I wrote
Told the bitch, "Gimme your scarf, pillowcase and rope."
Got dressed quick, tied the scarf around my face
Roped the bitch up, gagged her mouth with the pillowcase
Play the cut, n**ga comin off some love potion shit
Flash the heat on 'em, he stood emotionless
Dropped the glass screamin, "Don't blast here's the stash
A hundred cash just don't shoot my ass, please!"
N**ga pullin mad G's out the floor
Put stacks in a Prada knapsack, hit the door
Grab the keys to the five, call my n**gas on the cell
"Bring some weed I got a story to tell, uhh"

[Outro:]
Yo man, y'all n**gas ain't gonna believe what the fuck happened to me. Remember that bitch I left the club with man? Yo, freaky yo. I'm up in this bitch playa this bitch fuckin' run them ol' Knick ass n**gas and shit. I'm up in the spot though. One of them six-five n**gas, I don't know. Anyway I'm up in the motherfuckin spot. So boom I'm up in the pussy, whatever whatever. I sparks up some lah, Pop Duke creeps up in on some, must have been rained out or something because he's in the spot. Had me scared, had me scared, I was shook, Daddy — but I forget I had my Roscoe on me. Always. You know how we do. So anyway the n**ga comes up the stairs, he creepin up the steps, the bitch all shook she sends the n**ga back downstairs to get some drinks and shit. She gettin mad nervous, I said fuck that man! I'm the n**ga, you know how we do it, n**ga, ransom note style put the scarf around my motherfuckin face. Gagged that bitch up, played the kizzack. Soon this n**ga comes up in the spot, flash the Desert in his face he drops the glass. Looked like the n**ga pissed on his-self or somethin, word to mother! Ahh fuck it. This n**ga runs dead to the floor, peels up the carpet, start givin me mad papers, mad papers. I threw all that motherfuckin money up in the Prada knapsack. Two words, I'm gone! Yo n**ga got some lye, y'all got some lye?

Перевод песни:
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Ты с кем говоришь, чел?
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Эта песня для всех ниггеров, которые е**т убойных тёлок в квартирах других ниггеров и думают, что всё схвачено.
Но ниггер накроет тебя, ха-ха!
Дерзкие ниггеры такое уважают.
Зацените!

Я выдавал для тебя рифмы, вышибал для тебя двери,..... [открыть перевод]

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