Drabant - Tommy Tee

Je-Jesse Jones, jeg kommer fra Drabantbyen

Ber dem sette seg på livet mitt er vanskelig

Velkommen til Oslo shit, det skjer i hovedstaden

Feite biler og dop til lille Groruddalen

Den her går ut til alle de som pusher pakker

Jesse Jones han er kriminell svarting

Jeg er mitt Ken Ring, jeg er kjenning, jeg er spenning

Hip-Hop i Oslo den tar en annen vending, helt annen tenning

Vi er på andre tanker

Gjør det her for de som henger i Drabantbyen

Svart hette, svarte hansker

Ber dem sette seg på livet mitt er vanskelig

En ting som vi sier er for alltid

Knull politi, gjør penger og ta sjanser

Har det de trenger, har det som fenger

Men vi klakker, det er penga som snakker

Det er Jesse, du kjenner meg fra traktene

De er ikke vant med drabanstilen som jeg brakte med

Hva faen

Faen, ærre du?

Jeg trodde det var snut, jeg

Öppna dörren, det är Ken Ring

Jag lever livet med husslandet som instinkt

Så jävla skönt att en till har kommit in

Hela Oslo, stanna upp, stå still

Det är farligt, du bränner fingertopparna

Laddar hela natten, åker hem och käkar ropparna

Betongblock, runt om där jag bor

Nu kom dom, fuck alla andra bror

Mitt i Stovner, jag ligger där och snurrar

I en splitter ny bil med Jesse Jones och bara flummar

Pundar undan det innbringar laxingar, backa bort när du ser dessa svartingar

Stänger av beatet for att röka mitt weed… ni vet hur det går till!

On the average night, I’m likely to stab a fag with a knife

That’s when I’m chilling, imagine when I’m mad what it’s like

Damn right it’s a disasterous sight

Why you think I’ve been in prison more than half of my life (my life)

Wolves, bloods and crips, duckin' the digs

We don’t like basketball, but still fuck with the knicks

Dimes, twenties, fifties and bricks

Summer art though, if the bitch need a fix, it’s triple the tips

Do whatever it takes, the fakes, I can never relate

Ya’ll can chill as long as my cheddar is straight

But if I’m broke, shit, I’mma load the beretta with eight

Show y’all niggas my gun game is better than great

Little crack baby, ignorant son of a black lady

Who never bothered to teach you cause the bitch was that shady

I never leave home without the guns (ah)

It’s Saigon, and motherfucking Jess Jones

I’m gone

Je-Jesse Jones, I'm from Drabantbyen

Asking them to settle on my life is difficult

Welcome to Oslo shit, it's happening in the capital

Fat cars and drugs for little Groruddalen

This one goes out to all those who push packages

Jesse Jones he is criminal blacking

I'm my Ken Ring, I'm acquaintance, I'm excitement

Hip-Hop in Oslo it takes a different turn, a completely different ignition

We are on other thoughts

Do it here for those who hang out in Drabantbyen

Black hood, black gloves

Asking them to settle on my life is difficult

One thing we say is forever

Fuck the police, make money and take chances

Have what they need, have what catches

But we clap, it's money that speaks

It's Jesse, you know me from the neighborhood

They are not used to the draban style that I brought with me

What the hell

Damn, do you?

I thought it was snot, me

Open the door, it's Ken Ring

I live life with my homeland as an instinct

So damn nice that one more has come in

All of Oslo, stop, stand still

It's dangerous, you burn your fingertips

Charges all night, goes home and chews the caterpillars

Concrete blocks, around where I live

Now they came, fuck every other brother

In the middle of Stovner, I'm lying there spinning

In a brand new car with Jesse Jones and just flummoxing

Pounds away it brings in salmon, back off when you see these blacks

Turns off the beat to smoke my weed… you know how it goes!

On the average night, I'm likely to stab a fag with a knife

That's when I'm chilling, imagine when I'm mad what it's like

Damn right it's a disasterous sight

Why do you think I’ve been in prison more than half of my life (my life)

Wolves, bloods and crips, duckin 'the digs

We do not like basketball, but still fuck with the knicks

Dimes, twenties, fifties and bricks

Summer art though, if the bitch needs a fix, it's triple the tips

Do whatever it takes, the fakes, I can never relate

Ya’ll can chill as long as my cheddar is straight

But if I’m broke, shit, I’mma load the beretta with eight

Show y’all niggas my gun game is better than great

Little crack baby, ignorant son of a black lady

Who never bothered to teach you cause the bitch was that shady

I never leave home without the guns (ah)

It’s Saigon, and motherfucking Jess Jones

I’m gone