paroles de chanson




Not a lot of bling
When he do the thing, bada boom bada bing
From the womb to the tomb
Get that ricotta, bada bing bada boom
Doom, your reputation precedes you
Wait 'til you crack and see what we do, you dweeb you
No pun intended, takes one to know one will know, it's unscented
Yo son, dimension what I'm sendin' from the other time
Before everybody and they mother rhyme
What a crime, beats is the same way
Make 'em wanna hit the streets with heat for a lame's pay
Game day, flag on the play and proper helmet
Drag on the suede from the gem dropper, well spit
He didn't listen, titty kissin' the city glisten
Dependin' on from what position you're sittin'
In the pissy wind, it's this then whistlin'
Who let the spinnin' whisperin' djinn in?
The villain again? Without a doubt, that's his name
Don't play it out or spray it when you say it out your mouth
Then gave him a cold shoulder for a hour
And told him take a gold shower for fakin' funk soul power
Stocky, short and cocky
Look like Apollo Creed after he fought with Rocky
Rhymed in the broken English slang, not Cockney
Thirteen, his first queen walked hot, knocked me
Had to tell her pops, "Yo, stop cock-blockin' B
Hold somethin' for your daily yay habit
Then go, bada bing bing bing like Ricochet Rabbit
How 'bout the sicko say stab it
It's liquor in the cabinet and a slicker for the crab pit
And Heineken", I told him, "Much obliged friend
What I gotta spend if I only touch her thighs then?"
Why his eyes widened?
He didn't know your man had a nice surprise hidin'
Took pride in ridin' in a sly wise guy grin
Real recognize real
On the microphone or wheels of mechanized steel
Please, at least respect your ideals
How you got her walkin' a longer stroll in high heels?
He said her mama was gettin' old, God bless her poor soul
Now no more drama, it's your role
Straight to the head
He know a lot of haters can't wait 'til he dead, led to go
Like a ho to a strange wack housewife
Only thing he know is change his back dough, how trife
Rules is rules, don't go there
Stay on sale like a old coat made of mohair
Keep a snotty chicken on E, the Lone Ranger
Why everybody always pickin' on Danja?
And DOOM? Maybe it's him
Called up my lady, told her, "Baby, it's slim"
Make me up a margarita, I need to take a swim
Tell them kids remember school, if they let him out, cool
But get the hell from out the pool
Hey shithead, it's me again, and you know what? I just heard it's all
Done now! And somehow, I guess you musta lost my number. You know
What? You suck! You suck, your music sucks, and I hate your sucky
Stupid metal face! I hope you burn! You're going down!
This is the last big mistake you'll ever make! You
Suck! I hate your guts! But, if there is another
Project in the future, please keep me in mind. Thank you
Beef rap could lead to gettin' teeth capped
Or even a wreath for mind detours or some grief crap
I suggest you change your diet
It could lead to high blood pressure if you fry it
Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease
It ain't no startin' back once arteries start to squeeze
Take the easy way out, phony
Until then, they know they wouldn't
Be takin' that bologna in the bullpen
So disgustin', pardon self as I discuss this
They talk a wealth of shit and then I ain't never seen the justice
But that was off the beat
Bust this, like a cold milk from out the toilet
Two batteries, some Britto, and some foil, he'll boil it
He'd be better off on PC glued
And it's a feud, so don't be in no TV mood
Each week, it's mystery meat, seaweed stewed
Food, we need food
'Cause I can't stop it pimpin' anymore
I forgot why I started pimpin' for
There you go, yeah, that's good



Writer(s): Brian Burton, Daniel Thompson Copyright: Lord Dihoo Music, Chrysalis Music Ltd, Sony Music Publishing (uk) Ltd, Dkla Music, Annuity Songs



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