Lyrics:
No Cut Or Pigs’ Feet
They Wanna Break Bread w/ Some Young Niggas
Mark Hicks Put Me Hip, I Ain’t No Dumb Nigga, Nah
Yum, Yum, I Just Wanna Eat Good
Get
the world today sure looks strange to him
His trade mark his big square grey glasses
He wears t-shirts he don't
Care about high fashion
When he plays his
And gratefully accept the nomination
I'm gonna be President
Of the United States
First Tuesday in November
Mark it down, and save the date
Live music in
me of tryna destroy
Let's rewind it to '89 when I was a boy on the east side of Detroit
Crossin' 8 Mile into Warren into hick territory
I'd like
the groins
In other words the groins I stretch, now you gets the sketch
You, know I use my mark like the worm on Noah's Ark
But if I happen to see
took the D train uptown
Shante and her whole crew groovy hair style
Yo baby yo baby yo t-shirts
Gold teeth smirks at mark 125th
Hope the heat work few
up, I won't hold up
Gotta get to that bag, once you do then you could go nuts
Bought a brand new SRT, I mark your block, I'm doing donuts
You wanna tag
mark on your face. Paint it.
You dissed the entire human race. Stop it.
Once you find yourself, you better make it stick.
You don't wanna get pulled
from SNV
Can't forget the D-I, huh the G-I, to the T-A-L, right next to hell
My nigga Chris Hicks, Too Clean, and Ali Superside
This is strictly for
nighters
For the Jim, Jack, Johnny
And the Maker's Mark
For them little country towns
And them trailer parks
Redneck
And Ima rep till I DI
A lotta y'all
just bring the pain
I promise I'm sane I'm just showing who mark is
I got nothing to lose
But more to prove
I do this for me give a fuck about you
flight
Got to get my pace right
But Im feeling haze like
Need a little pick up
Keep on hitting hick ups
I could use a spark like
When you flick your Bic up
shit while i flick shit
Like Beerus on some hick shit
Cuz stars and bars on this shit
The point is hazy
But i know it's crazy
This shit's just Ether
Who
And I don't speak to no foreign types."
Right? That's what you like?
Y'all on 6ix9ine and Lil Dicky
Hicks bump trap in an F150
Yuppy libtards wanna act
a stipend
On the righteous hijinks of hype on a high of hicks who cry spy then
I spy a transgender eye in this tiger, blame the enlightened
There's no logic
Cruisin on my flow, but lemme hit the throttle
Quick on a switch up, little hick up
Runnin up number like im finna buy out
Bingin on bourbon, herbs
a pitcher
They act like they don't get the picture
Flash made 'em jump
Got 'em scared
Gave him hick ups
Hit my bro Metri like pull up the pick up
Get rid
walked past your lawn jockey
A villain you can tell
Entitlement like yours
Leaves baby as a mark
A truth I know and you'll learn soon
Your bite is just
Hey Kids, don't do what I did
Or you'll never write a hit
Razor Sharp, amphetamine thin
Zappa, Beefheart and Bill Hicks
Leather Jacket, mirrors
me jump,
I Live where tramps gone make their stamp and vamps got plans to suck your blood
Pigs gone kill and say don't run, hicks and sticks I'm
And more than two towers fell on 9/11
But who am I kidding?
'cause Carlin and Orwell and Hicks and the Buddha all tried to warn us
Lennon taken out, hit his
After getting my stick Get on your knees and get started to lick.
You can call me what you want a saint, mark, luke or rick. It doesn't really matter
and the motherfucking Luniztoons
Fat Jean came through with the 8-9 Crew
There goes Ted, Chris Hicks and Super Side
A party with the deuce player
Lets ride.
[Hook]
Ride
Discuss these Mark Hicks Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In