Lyrics:
while the little homies hold my beer
Had to move out of Compton, too much tension here
Glock on my lap, I'm in this Lamborghini switchin' gears
I been
phone splashing in my coffee cup
A fumble on the one when my team was going up
You're like brakes on my brain and all I know
You're a buzzkill every time
The brain of Britain sits in the tower of London
Protected by the ravens
The prime-minister and the cabinet queue up to consult it
On urgent
down
(Hit 'em up) peace up, (hit 'em up) A-Town down
If you ain't from round here, dog, don't even come around (ayy, ayy)
(Hit 'em up) twist your
won't you come home to me
'Tis by the English Market gates I'll be
I hear the Angel Voices telling me to be strong
Here in this English Market Christmas
i. Long-Shadowed Sun
I remember
The enchanted English walled garden
Days of summer air and honey-suckled nights
The capricious dance
and whatever's goin' on around me
Brain kind of cloudy, smoked out, feelin' rowdy
Ready to wet the party up, and whoever in that motherfucker
Nasty new street
Some shit, I don't take it, not even in a toilet
And shit from a sucker, put in a pot and I'll boil it
Turn up the pilot as it burns
And maybe,
movin' on (move it)
But I'm a sucker, like I said, fucked up in the head, not
And maybe, she just made a mistake
And I should give her a break, my
This should be played at high volume
Preferably in a residential area
Now I'ma kick up dust
As I begin to bust
On the wick-wack, fucked up
Live by the gun die by the same shit you bust
Fly bitches with waves from DC to Cali
Rally and tally up my dough
For the grand finale
Grapevines
brains behind the outhouse in the grass for cats to eat
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't you step a foot up in the swamp with your gators on
That's
He packed up his guitar
And drove Wednesday through Sunday
And sometimes played three shows a day
The modern lone rider, he dreamed of Ohio
finger up
While I'm over here shoving my dick in a hole in the mud
My bitch know I'm perfectly fit for murder
Because I murdered her, so you can call me
modern ways frighten and confuse me
I watch your spirit box with the blinking lights and think
Are those little people trapped in that box? (No, Caveman)
ease the guns in
Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function
Heads by the score take flight, incite a war
Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans
to break in the calm
Created by strange tongues that praise the norm
But while they make a living giving false testimony
I often impress the ceremony
on and get low, and I never fumble
Make ya throw your hands up when
I bring in the zone
So if it's on, it's on, shit
I'm takin' you home
I got my home dog out,
yeah
Some of that Beats By the Pound flavor, you feel me (you heard me)
Get your ice, get your cups, 'cause we 'bout to get fucked in here
You heard
pleased to be here
We're just pleased to be here
Right, so, I've started reading up about history
In Roman Britain there as a bloke known as the Count
Well, this here's the story about the Battle of New Orleans
Which was fit between the Yankees of course and them there English people
In which
because I'm doing the lambada
The forbidden dance, here's my chance
To make romance in my B-boy stance
Parlay romancing into financing
Opened up
Tryin' to get my niggas in the den he walked by
Hold his stoony up
Hole in his "Chest" like Cody "Nutt"
Smoking his cess, he blow it up
As if schemed
brain blown
Nigga we used to shoot bullets
In the stop sign
But it would take a thousand bullets and the
Power of Jesus for you to stop mine
Born
Discuss these up here in the brain by modern english 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