Search results for 'by t album chiddy bang' Page #11

from the norms
And soon millions of folk
Records were being sold
By the early sixties, Dylan, Baez, Phil Ochs
Were doing intellectualized copies

still trying to drop three albums by Labor Day, motherfucker

Saturday morning cartoons
Filling up a medical balloon with some hot sauce
Goddamn, I saw

fucking up the game mane they be on the same thang
Shorty wanna be a thug or either trying to gang bang
I maintain to keep it raw and keep it solid
Yo

pisania w zasięgu wzroku wygrana
Za jakieś paręset kroków jest szansa pooddychania
Moja oaza wracam do niej co album
Taki los jest już bardów się nie głowię

Lakers up by 10 and I need
Some more ice in my shit literally

And I know a lot of dimes, they a handful
That's why players on the
Sidelines can't

files
Got these phony's actin childish like a class of juveniles
Christiano Ronaldo by the way that I'm kickin' it
Giuiliano Amato I ain't runnin' I'm

about wealth
To do what you want
Cause In that casket you all by yourself
The streets taught me life lessons
But it put me through some rough shit

of other Jukies
Our animated glitch suspended like
Milk money bullies
I calculate my comfort zone by
How baggy the hoodie
I calibrate pyrotechnics on how

I might bag a dirty chick on vacation
Might bang 36 chambers on occasion
I might spit a dope rhyme for the heck of it
Ask a kid with attention

again it's the warmhearted yet cold blooded cat with the baritone ya girls loving and flows flooded with gold nuggets
This concrete maze I rose from it by

brain
Got this choppa, let it bang I'ma make it rain
When I hit the stage, crowds screamin' my name
I'll be going hard till they lay me in my grave

of you're seat
While I let the beat bang

I'm a killa wit the music
Killa wit the music
Kill, Kill, Killa like dat
I'm a killa wit the music
Killa wit

Gomez buying out the shops
How they get a major deal and your album flop
I'm always real if you're around or not
It never was about the fame outta planet

way
My way
Good times and blood stains
I'll go out with a bang for the final show
Just remember me by my notes and songs I wrote
All my imperfections,

Frontload

Kollegah

Jung Brutal Gutaussehend 3

2017

'ne Kombo, so wie Tong Po
Ich mach' Frontload (ey) wie Jean-Claude (ey)
Bloodsport, dein Blut färbt den Beton rot

Yeah, mein Album wie Donnerschlag

want the best for you
I know you already know this 
Keep writing and spitting and
Just stay focused
A feature on your album 
That's really kinda dope

bound to blow
The formula ain’t never been original
You play the game and now tryin' to get an album sold
I’m surrounded by the muses and they gonna be

jede Punkbitch was vom Don
Scheiß auf Kobe Steak ich Kauf das ganze Restaurant

Bang deine Ma im schwarzen Ferrari Spyder
Obwohl ich an meinen Models

quarter-ounce
Now I sell it by-the-o, if not tell them bounce
I'm smoking moon rocks with a new thot,
And she likes me- said she boombox
When I fuckin' bang it,

they be trippin I don't listen to that talk boy
Hammer by my side like I’m a mutha fuckin cowboy...
Ima bad ass nigga
Keep a bad ass bitch
Fuck around

Kom putt toysa på han gutta
Boysa går gang bang
Fang han er slange mann og han
Vil holde din hånd som holder regn
Jeg har tatt bad dypere en deg
Har

Got by myself whatchu thank
Okay
Come outta pocket for things
Fasho
Feeling so broke in exchange
Uh huh
Might get some fan I can bang
Uh huh
And words

And they ain't scared to catch a case
See I'm ahead of the race
In my lane where I will stay
I'm not loved by people
But I bang in other states

I'm the type

catch a bang to
The teeth ya get me?

Hey Starbucks? Yea can I get a
J-Mocha please? Oh I'm sorry
What's that? Oh you don't serve
Drinks that fresh?