Search results for '2 bad remix by michael jackson' Page #72

that's a bad place to start
Yet, repeatedly, do I see the delivery of two or three folks stolen

Then spoken, inadvertently, but sometimes deliberately

this music can say that I like it
I get distracted by bitches thats light skin, money bags, and some icing
I'm the greatest Mike Jackson and Tyson, still

on the same corners
That he stood upon
I got violence in my waistband
Death in my palm
Ask 'em am I a bad guy, ya goddamn right
I done seen how ya do a
Nigga

Drowned out the noise with my pen and my pad
Nothing like average I'm making classic shit
Honor the greats
(Uh)
Vintage by A+ but wait
How could I do

“She Likes Money (feat. Sir Michael Rocks)” Lyrics - Ray Rabbit

Intro-
Wassup
Money, money
Girl you lookin’ good lookin’ spicy
Yeah yeah, money, awe

And did him bad I am Michael black son
I ca not get jigging with your shit
You think you rapping
You really bad boy
Keep it a band DJ spinning all my

by a landslide
Gassed up, like I'm boutta do the race
Hadda take my time and I'm sorry for the wait
I got used to being hungry I been trynna find a way

out west in the backrooms
I was passed out in my bathroom
Every time I rap I feel like I'm mad too
All your friends feel really bad for you
Sitting

King cold and ski that's a tidal wave
Ya I'm black as fuck, but a nigga not a slave
Beat the brick down
Clean it like its cascade
I was bad kid
Ya I had

like beer do
That’s ratchet as hell, girl, shame on you
He done paid five hundred for
The brand new Jay's
And had on the same clothes
For the last two

is not the truth
I wipе my ass with yo' life savings
When you ain't got a clue
Rеd and white Supreme hat on me
I feel like Dr seuss
I snatch a bad

And paste it don't get white boy wasted
This ain't a race work together to raise it
High
Like you just can't get enough
Two or three puffs i just can't give

Michael rushes in and says
This is not your final
You shall live and not die
Now dry them tears from your eyes
By the grace of God I only had 1st and 2

me good brain like she got two degrees
I jump on the mic with hella intuity
I fuck on hoes but I don't like groupies
Please don't copy the swag, I've

I got blues on me like a jazz band
Got a bag on me like a trash man
Two bitches tag-teaming like it's SummerSlam Rob Van Dan, in your hoe

enemy
You came from the fuckin' war
Your bitches still wearin' Michael Kors
My hoes got Dior, fuckin' galore

Make em feel good by gettin' drunk
Slap em

Uh, yeah, uh, yeah you know I just be chillen yeah
Yeah I be chillen like Ed, Edd n Eddy
Nigga got bad skin like Freddy
Ou, yeah
Aye, yeah
Ou, yeah

(Rich)
You broke and you ain't doing shit
You hoping that everything bliss (Let's go)
You hoping that shit gonna fix by itself! (yeah)
Fuckboy, I keep your

or a Tesla
I deserve a great hits CD collection or a Best Of
I'm a bad nigga but I ain't no Michael
Light skinned but no Vitiligo
New investment just hit

on a nigga
Let me in the door if you wanna go to war
I'll bust way more than a rhyme on a nigga
Bicycle trip we'll ride on a nigga 2Pac shit all eyez

Kenesaw Mountain Landis

Jonathan Coulton

Smoking Monkey

2003

Kenesaw Mountain Landis was a bad mother fucker 
He was seventeen feet tall, he had a hundred and fifty wives 
He didn't do that much except he

for mine
Why hate on me and you far behind
Wasting time by talking down
You can still trash and I'm in my prime
You feeling bad and I'm feeling fine

Becky, Robert, Kevin, Michael and Drew
Keisha, K-Rino, you name the last two uh

It all started
In the kitchen with a mission
Tryna beat the competition

fifty pounds
That's bad karma
Smoked a blunt off lemon tree and
Ate some fish and grit's
Gave her a quarter mil and she
Jumped on the plane at six