Paroles et traduction Violent J - Some F*ckin' How

Some F*ckin' How

Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
BANG!
I'm like a hand grenade about to pop in seconds
My therapy wicked shit on these records
And I'm trying to shine when I spit this rhyme
Punch you in the gut so hard I break your spine
Right there
I just visionaried that shit
So deep in your gut I hit your spine and cracked it
What the fuck is stopping me from making
That really happen?
It did happen right here in my rapping
You know how many bitches I fucked off this?
I'm talking fine ass hoes
And look at me, I ain't shit
And yet super ass hotties be blowing my shit up
And half the time I don't even show up
We roll with the hatchet like nuns role with church
And to us, the hatchet means more then some merch
We travel, seen the Grand Canyon 66 times
Spitting wicked shit rhymes
Some fucking how.
We're spitting
(Live shows)
We're fucking
(Fine hoes)
Somehow as
(Time goes)
How'd it all happen?
(I don't know)
I hate people
I get into fights everyday
It seems like everybody feel like they got something to say
To a clown
Haters aside I still ride plush
If I ain't riding spinners
I'm in an 8th street tour bus
Packed clubs, England, Aussie everywhere
And we ain't ever really flied over there
I don't fucking know
It just happened like that
And plus the phat fact that we can rap bitch
I roll deep, even if I go for chip dip
And ain't a bitch I meet that don't sip dick
Think about it clown paint, rap songs, hard work
Who the fuck ever made anybody an expert?
If we can do it, shit
Fuck that we did it
So what the fuck is your idea bitch?
Come with it
Our shit paid off and we never get laid off
And we never get played so we never fade off
Some fucking how...
I got some woods by my house
And they all mine
I'm about to put a gate up around them
And let loose a lion
Cause it would fuck up them 3 dogs of mine
And they be licking my toes
When I be writing these rhymes
And I'm a fucking mind it
Bitches sometimes damn
I just can't believe it when I be fucking them
They look good enough to be up in a magazine or something
With my scrubby ass humping them
Back in the day you bitches never woulda even look my way
Not even if I ran up in your fucking ear and yelled "HEY!"
Watching TV, it's hatchet signs in the crowd
Letting every mothafucking body know that they proud
How the fuck am I supposed to get used to this freshness?
Half the fucking time I just front and stay breathless
And fuck man somehow we get paid for this shit
I bought my momma a crib and told her to quit
Some fucking how...
It's been real
Some fucking how
On the real though
Some fucking how...

Some F*ckin' How

Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
BANG!
I'm like a hand grenade, about to explode any second
My therapy is spitting this wicked shit on these records
And I'm trying to shine when I spit this rhyme
Punch you in the gut so hard I break your spine
Right there
I just envisioned that shit
So deep in your gut I hit your spine and cracked it
What the fuck is stopping me from making
That really happen?
It did happen, right here in my rapping
You know how many women I've slept with because of this?
I'm talking fine-ass ladies
And look at me, I ain't shit
And yet super hotties be blowing up my phone
And half the time I don't even show up
We roll with the hatchet like nuns roll with the church
And to us, the hatchet means more than just merch
We travel, seen the Grand Canyon 66 times
Spitting wicked-ass rhymes
Somehow.
We're spitting
(Live shows)
We're fucking
(Fine babes)
Somehow as
(Time goes)
How'd it all happen?
(I don't know)
I hate people
I get into fights every day
It seems like everybody feels like they got something to say
To a clown
Haters aside, I still ride plush
If I ain't riding spinners
I'm in an 8th street tour bus
Packed clubs, England, Aussie, everywhere
And we ain't ever really flown over there
I don't fucking know
It just happened like that
And plus the fact that we can rap, bitch
I roll deep, even if I'm just going for chip dip
And ain't a woman I meet that don't suck dick
Think about it, clown paint, rap songs, hard work
Who the fuck ever made anybody an expert?
If we can do it, shit
Fuck that, we did it
So what the fuck is your idea, bitch?
Come with it
Our shit paid off and we never get laid off
And we never get played so we never fade off
Somehow...
I got some woods by my house
And they all mine
I'm about to put a gate up around them
And let loose a lion
Cause it would fuck up them 3 dogs of mine
And they be licking my toes
When I be writing these rhymes
And I'm a fucking mind it
Women sometimes, damn
I just can't believe it when I be fucking them
They look good enough to be up in a magazine or something
With my scrubby ass humping them
Back in the day you bitches never woulda even looked my way
Not even if I ran up in your fucking ear and yelled "HEY!"
Watching TV, it's hatchet signs in the crowd
Letting every mothafucking body know that they proud
How the fuck am I supposed to get used to this freshness?
Half the fucking time I just front and stay breathless
And fuck man, somehow we get paid for this shit
I bought my momma a crib and told her to quit
Somehow...
It's been real
Somehow
On the real though
Somehow...