Lyrics:
the one taking the risk
She gone drop it down low imma pick it up
I got too many flows I might switch it up
I got so many guns, keep my pistol tucked
If you
Anyone In The
Mainstream? La Vie Boheme
Anyone Alive - With A
Sex Drive La Vie Boheme
Tear Down The Wall
Aren't We All
The Opposite Of War
Isn't Peace...
Y'all bitches betta be scared, it's Calipark music
Ying Yang Twins, U.S.A.
United State of Atlanta
We back in this muthafucker by our goddamn self
We
Street
Who call themselves The Fugs
In April
They record by Harry Smith doing the
Punkiest songs yet to exist
Lo-fi noisy shit about poetry, sex and drugs
my dick as fuck
You could feel it in between
But if you try to fuck me over
It'll be the worst sex of your week
Hit a hoe for three hours
And she
Mic check, I can get smooth to any groove
Relax the tongue, let my mic take a cruise
Around the planet, pack 'em in like Janet
Jackson, she's
that image
Of your preening self in the mirror (go on)
Sharp-shooter into breakin' hearts
Baby gigolo, a sex pistol
Hollerin' at everything that
that image
Of your preening self in the mirror (go on)
Sharp-shooter into breakin' hearts
Baby gigolo, a sex pistol
Hollerin' at everything that
Shouldn't have had her curtains open, so that's her fate
Leavin out her house, grabbed the bitch by her mouth
Drug her back in, slammed her down on the couch
you raped my childhood
Just stroll in, roll in your pole into Rolie Polie Olie's colon.
To relax my mind I take a walk by the clock and I pass
the way)
I'm the only way
We can fornicate
Ah, pimping and posing
Look what I drove in, ah
Having these hoes and I know that I'm chosen, ah
I live by
land in the city)
(uh)
New bitch
She's so pretty
(yeah, yeah)
Sex gon make her miss me
(yeah, yeah)
She never been in a six speed
(nah, nah)
She want
you know that sHit's real
Pistol grip pump on my lap all times
I used to drive a Hyundai
With the dimes inside
Now drive by is by the lost
THat kill bay
time to stop for Backwoods, no time to stop for condoms
I can't stop in the wrong hood, on Grape, I hope you got some
Got a pistol all on my lap, I'm
do not rap but I got shit to say from the past back when I was a dope fiend
Up in the trap for a year and a day getting fed by the mouth all
The beauty of sanctity in her mind
Is what she thrive for
Wanting more from a man
Beyond what sex implore
She been on many dates
But none of them
Drunk as hell all by hisself
Saying he's the only one that could exist
Whose God is this?
He showed up not long ago
Bout 1952
All dressed up in some
quiver aye
R&B you know we playing got me shooting like a pistol (Got me shooting like a pistol)
If she call you by your government just know she stamped
and cheap we sayin holla
man we sayin powdah,heroin,grass, X
pistols,bullets, versus sex
weezy versus whoevers ya best
fuck a hot 16 i make 11 ya chest
gotta
ex
Pistols - bullets - verses - sex
Weezy versus who evers ur best
Fuck a hot 16 i mac-11 ya chest
Gatta watch these niggas turnin elliot ness
Give my
suck me in the meantime
Clean like, new pistol
Making heavy moves like Bobby Fischer
Go figure, found a lil sexy goth to finger
Taste that, dis the sound
pushing cocaine
Bad bitch got pissed of we had sex
And I was recording
Bad bitch turned in by the wisdom
I've been sipping on my Codeine
Bad bitch got
Here's a song
Here's a little punk rock song for you
A little punk rock called
I think it was written by the Ramones
In the early 70's
Maybe before
the party pistol whip a nigga
Shit,
I'm comin' up at 'em with the .9's the Glocks and Macs
And they'll never breathe again like Toni Braxton
Cause I
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