Acordes de S.W.A.T. 
Akwid 
N/A
Key: C major•
Verse 1
Bm
What the fuck we gon' do now?
These motherfuckers still
ain't gon' play us?
Who the fuck we gon' call?
The Puerto Rican superhero
I'm downstairs outside
of the radio station
With 45 wild niggas and we all waiting
You don't play what's in the street
and fuck the police
I'm higher than Nas,
child support to Khalees
Sometimes I think that I need
some sort of therapy
There's no fair play
when you try to get some airplay
Sing three songs every day,
man, I hate this shit
They feed me like Flavor Flav for the dentist
I bet if I was in a scandal
with novella bitches
Guaranteed that I'd be all over Univision
Man, I ain't trippin',
I'ma rob a liquor store
Puerto Rican with braids,
cops blame it on Donald Maher
Chino will never bow down for any reason
A heathen that's dangerous
has a line through a mating season
You think you're on a beach,
I make you see shells
I can freestyle longer than
Evie Queen's nails
Will I let a DJ lip?
Stop asking me
Wanna tangle?
Get strangled and dangle
from the balcony
Cause we need a balance,
the lyric level of talent's
way too low on the radio
Motherfuck reggaeton,
I'm at an episode
When I let the weapons go,
my niggas is killers
and immigrants outta Mexico
Ignorance is criminal, unforgivable,
how they keepin' real off
the radios?
Legitimate vehicles,
surviving the economy by
spittin' violently
Chino the lyric, Jesus,
I got a cult followin'
Your face is a cat
that'll stab you with a stapler
I'm makin' rappers wanna crumple
all they written papers up
I got a strategy to keep
the DJs mad at me
I put him in a car
and set it on fire like valentine
I punch a programmer all
up in his nose bone
Crash a plane into his building
like I'm a Muslim
Si es cierto que una foto vale
más que mil palabras
Yo los llevo al cine con dieciséis barras
Diez segundos de mí, te tendré cagando
Balas por un año,
síguete marchando
Estaciones latinas, no tocan latinos
Solo que escupa rimas del cuarto de niños
No tengo que probar nada a nadie,
sin radio
Soy conocido mundial en la calle
Bajo concreto desde el 93
He parto el corano por el interés
Listo para el juego del arma,
suena la alarma
Directores del programa me parten el alma
Me pide batería al artificial
Pendejadas, mierda, solo comercial
Hago lo contrario, música de barrio
Solo cuando muera me tocará
la radio
Sobrevivientes y que me gano nada
Sigo viviendo en un purgatorio
Son pesta' de la chingada
Presento el arma
Formamos un ejercito
Gente de la calle
Y somos todo un exito
Somos un equipo titulado el SWAT
Gente encabronada homie
It's what you got
I got a bus full of bangers
Rappers and cliffhangers
Marksmen trained to devour
your brains in all angles
Fuck my transmission bitch
Give it a rest
I got heat behind the punch
aimed at your chest
Hoy quieres una mano, güey?
Estás pendejo
Venderme como otros güeyes,
mejor me alejo
Estoy bajo tierra como Miguel Jackson
Tócame en la radio, gimme some action
Estoy demasiado dolido como Juliana
¿Cómo prosigo con tanta cachetada?
40 loco, ah, listen music
40 loco, ah, listen music
Sound waves, digital signals
My flow got more radiation
than the North Cape missiles
Sea level rising,
the cost planetary alignment
Word to weapons,
you better choose them wisely
They tell me I should change for the better
But how the fuck you scratch
a rock with a feather?
Militia music,
hater you ain't gonna stop it
It's my motherfucking cock,
go ahead block me
Spin the track back,
cambio de lenguaje
Necesitan un ejército pa'
que me maten
Bócame la pista y la guerra empieza
Ya te dije, tienes miedo,
vete pa' la iglesia
Aquí hay guerra pa' el
pendejo que quiera
Creen que van a venir a pararme,
a mí están fumando piedra
My enemies fuck, I'm the global imposition
I survive any war without
a transmission
Crooked steelo, yeah
Crooked steelo, yeah
I'm so sick of the same 10 songs,
same old shit playing back like ping pong
For me that's wrong,
my fans can't sing along,
no airplay, my spin's ain't strong
Tongas en alerta,
si no me tocan pa' musica
y vamos conertas
Pa' que me toquen todita' mis canciones,
manifestaciones en las estaciones
Si no me tocan en la radio,
vengo listo con soldados desde el barrio
Pa' demostrarles que aquí
somos mercenarios,
y no nos vamos aunque venga el comisario
Y si soy chueco, pero yo no doy peyola
Y los asalto en la cabina sin pistola
Si se descuidan, me vuelve yo la consola
Y transmito por el aire esta rola, esta rola
Long Beach City, Capital Y, man
Long Beach City, Capital Y,
man Long Beach City
I let it be known,
this scenario sucks, mother fellatio
I hate it so much,
I'm kicking holes in my radio
Trading blows make me go,
fuck you, pay me though
This shit could never fit me
like a set of new baby clothes
Can it be so simple?
My answer I don't really know
Just try to document it and
capture it on video
Sippin' on that Jack and Coke
with a nice Philly roll
Hearin' MC slappin' the
gums like Arsenio
It's terrible, reviving your corpse
will take a miracle
So pitiful for the fact
that some ain't too lyrical
So here we go again,
the Mexicans on the track
We'd act with flippin' these verses
just like a backflip
The fashion is somethin'
I'm callin' a scare tactic
Lock it down,
latch it, strap like a straitjacket
React with an attitude,
infusing the gratitude
I'm Anson McAnew
from Long Beach Avenue
Las, las, las, las,
Sinfonías Andromeda, Maldito 6, 6
La Sinfonía Andromeda, Maldito
Ese venenoso dolor de mi gente
Que guía mis pasos hacia enfrente
No paro de luchar mi gente
No se me desperen
Les voy a dar lo que merecen
Arsenal, me comporto como una suficiente
Se acumula, multiplica, no paran de nacer
Con las fíricas que trae Arsenal y 6
No vamos a parar
Aunque busque medio mundo
And the radio, if they put me in front of it,
this is for my genies
The time of all times
And we been dragging like the Jetos
Imagine soldiers, armed forces
Assembled by the people
who want urban music
A culture, a collective already formed
It never be stopped or broken
A serious nightmare turned
into reality
Affecting your mentality
Yeah, my stress level is high,
the West Jekyll ain't high
So move yourself aside
and let a Mexican ride
Gotta look your peeps dead in the eye
So that they know you mean
business
By making your numbers
shoot through the sky
What's really going on,
I can't emphasize it enough
And it only gets worse with that Soulja
Boy stuff
I'm the product of good genes,
hard work and hood kings
And I'm about to take it back
where it should be
Whether it's 106 or Hot 97
If I can't get a spin,
how the fuck can I sell it?
Cash in the building, and this is crunch time
But it still ain't auto -tuned
dreads or punchlines
Way too much to prove
If you rockin' skinny jeans,
I'ma aim it till you start to move
Yeah, golden statement, golden gate shit
The palm tree swag that
I brag gon' stay sent
Radio won't play me though
I cuss too much
Bm
Up at the Long Beach every time I bust,
yeah
Wicked, wicked, active
Wicked, wicked, active
It's been a long time comin'
They keep poppin' out the mouth,
talkin' bout it wouldn't happen
Now they runnin'
Take the best from the West
stick them in a pot
and what you get is the motherfucking swat
So give your bullshit a kiss before us
there was nada
and there won't be nada after this
You only hear what they play
talking about
is something new, but I hear the same
Bm
drums all day bet ter get ready
This is it bout to get everybody
in this motherfucking lit.
Can't nobody stop this boy
You better quit this ain't
what you used to compa
pero todavía es acquit
Con esto cambia todo lo que sabes
It don't matter if it's English or Spanish
Ya solo los mas cabrones quedaron
Y saquen la carpeta roja
que ya llegaron
¿Qué te pareció la canción?
Necesitas iniciar sesión para dejar una calificación.
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesBm
Bm
Cejillo: Sin cejillo
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