Search results for 'grit+bin'

on them grits now
We bout' to fuck some grits
Bitch I'm the bomb, osama bin Laden, that bitch wanna' fuck on me cause I stay lit
Open the safe, got them

like grit work

They don't want no hooks jab punch lines got them shook
Combos elbows for a mook
Crazy T Gyal sing a long
Gyal feel me they sing my songs

(It's Danny G, bitch) ayy, ayy
(Primo Beats on the track) ayy, ayy, ayy

Real Jack Man, twenty-five Pros before ten
Real Scam Man, 25K off four BINs

Cooking up some Grit's
Ich brauch keine handouts
I don't need no favors
Ich bin connected mit dem Plug
So I be ballin like the Lakers
Taylor und ich ficken

chillin' (lemon)
I'm smokin' grits and sellin' chickens, Corvette painted lemons 
It's Gucci

Lemons on the chain with the V-cuts (yeah)
Lemons

Hip Hop lives

I'm Saddam Hussein em', Bin Laden training em'
Kim Jong il em' pulling up in them stadiums
Hard like titanium rough rugged and raw
You

I’m Saddam Hussein em’, Bin Laden training em’/
Kim Jong il em’ pulling up in them stadiums/
Hard like titanium rough rugged and raw/
You depleted

stainless shit
Bro Harden with the pot
He ain't making grit's
Doing fire with the Visas like I'm Charmander
Goldberg self-scamming, I'm a card slammer
I can’t

Cataclysmic destruction, final boss, and I’m fighting Sin.

Oh, so imma make you Laden, I put you in the bin. 

Coast to coast, ghost writing, with fire in my

and some eggs
I ain't having grit's
For that sack, we'll blitz his ass
John Madden shit yo boyfriend a burger
On his Krabby Patty shit
Drop a deuce straight

Tuck in your bib in with din dins
Lick the dirt off bin rims
Dent in your face like tin chins
Greeted with dilated pupils and grim grins
Grim grins

Lemonade

Gucci Mane

The Rise and Fall of Radric Davis

chillin' (lemon)
I'm smokin' grits and sellin' chickens, Corvette painted lemons 
It's Gucci

Lemons on the chain with the V-cuts (yeah)
Lemons

on
Zoe plays her music low
She's got a bottle on the go
Everything's in boxes
It's been a long night packing
Clothes in black bin bags
Blu Tack greasing

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Spice road rich, gimme a gimme a spice road bitch
Ich bin ein brauner Junge auf 'nem Trip
Reite Kamele mit seidenem Grip

hiding (naw)
He thinking he ghost he ain't no bin landen (bin landen)
We capture the face and send you the body (the body)
Man my girl is a coin she

dick
Let the fists do the fucking twist
Use a whole lot of spit
And swallow all of the grit
Wipe away the drips
That ended up on your lips
Brush your

like im rich 
Wholesome as one with a home filled with grits 
Got some magic for you, let my flow do them tricks
Man I spit it and fill it I make your

and would be sent to the looney bin
I mean the shit's been goin' on since I was a damn baby
My parents knew somethin' wasn't right from the beginning
I see it

make it Over that fence?
MO64L till I die my loyalty is Real
Osama bin laden with choppers Lasers and fifths I'm him
He thought he was King of the Hill

drought Bin on the way
How stout I don't play
Now count me in ok
I found me in a cave
Just shouting "fuck this maze"
Can't find my way out of it
I'm blind

Anna Mae Anna Mae Anna Mae Anna Mae
Eat dat cake
Spinning da bin wit dis pen it get sinister
Bet I go beat dat case
Dunk on da judge both of my nuts

bout flav got a big habit
They on the block we gone take us a spin at it (uh)
I made a wave outta this fashion
I'm in a cave wit a k like I'm Bin Laden

a little ass stick
Whip it out the dip and turn him to grits
Every night we about to spin
Took me sum L's and I got me sum wins
Click on the navy's and run

John Wayne

John Wayne, John Wayne
Where are you now we need you?
True grit is what we need 
To save the world from mullahs flying aeroplanes