Lyrics:
carols and god bless
america and thanks for comin so:
Get a job you bum bum bum
Money dont grow on trees you bum bum bum.
Silent farts
Deadly farts
God)
I'm by myself, I'on need yo' help, I'on give no fuck, yeah (Don't give no fuck, yeah)
I put like three Gs in my wood, I'm tryna get fucked up
Hop
to blow
Lastly you see:
Me, be three by three
Firing these things called TNT
Fire these things called TNT
These things called TNT
They call me TNT
Meddies on meddies on meddies
I'm bang
Couple double Ds
And watch me go dumb
Some with fair skin
And some that got bums
They ask if I'm good
And I
The Rich Way
BMG
BMG
BMG
Reno
Tell them dig brody the nem up with his bum ass
They know we gon' empty them clips to my gun jam
I go by Lil' Walka
these medals Ina street
You a bum
I can tell by yo feet
Bleed a bitch just to see
What she bring
Couple bands
What I bring to my chinks
I'm that nigga
I
(Shun On Da Beat, Rainwater, what's up?)
Yeah that shit crazy, man, you know, they
Say this and that 'bout MO3, man
They don't never say how
light my cigarette
(cigarette)
What ah bumbum! What ah bum bum!
Baby girl I no go lie you cause confusion
I just wanna be close to you tonight
But you dey
(Oh, the wine cooler)
Johnny Ryall is the bum on my stoop
I gave him fifty cents to buy some soup
He knows the time with the fresh Gucci watch
Huh, uh
Dun, dun, uh
Bum, uh, uh, uh, uh
(Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up)
Yeah, uh
Bum, uh, huh
Bum, bum, huh
Bum, bum
on the
guitar. He wrote it all by himself. O.K., Stevie, bring your three friends
up, they can play with you. That Seve Vai, what a nice little boy. {I wrote
Yeah, yeah
Big up bwoy!
I got y'all stuck off my linguistics
Full body armor, yo we so militaristic
We gon' bum rush yo' clouded judgment
March on,
Said it hit different
Cumming consistent
Tongue when we kissing
Thumb in ya bum, going dumb, going ignant
Getting lit lit
Working out: Fitbit
Work
cheap so I can not conversate
-Get straight to it everyday while ya bums procrastinate
Back and forth on interstates striker got some dealer plates
-If
three Glocks
Wass Gang ran his ass down by the sea walk
My trap house running like Yung Lava
Don't let me get the drop
And send them Wassas
Anchor on your
blooming
Blooming, blooming
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
[Verse 3]
At the ending of a flowers life
It scatters in the Summer light
Transforming to something
hiding, hiding
Trying to hide yourself from you
And it does it by design
You can't tame it like the river
Sending shivers down your spine
Day and night when
bum
Way too far ahead come and join the mile run
I’m just doing me don’t worry about the outcome
If you catch me on the street then you are wild dumb
Well I was counting my tips
After playing Six Cents in this gulf show watering hole
When his old beach bum yelled out,
"Come on, play, give me three
on the
guitar. He wrote it all by himself. O.K., Stevie, bring your three friends
up, they can play with you. That Seve Vai, what a nice little boy. {I wrote
Orb's das Feras – G4ng&B3ng’$$$
AHM...
ORB'S DAS FERAS...
G4NG&B3NG'$$$!
UNIVERSO PARALELO, PLASMADO EM MEIO A REALIDADE...
CAROS
Gwyneth Paltrow
Wchodzę na majki
I Nike AM'y mam
PLNY outfit
PLNY snap
I jedziemy rap
Właśnie tak mam
Tu ważne co nagram
Tak że to bangla tak
To jest bum
Gwyneth Paltrow
Wchodzę na majki
I Nike AM'y mam
PLNY outfit
PLNY snap
I jedziemy rap
Właśnie tak man
Tu ważne co nagram
Tak że to bangla tak
To jest bum
Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum
You got somethin'
That I need
It feels so easly like one, two, three
In technicolor
It's a dream
Take it back to the top,
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