Lyrics:
the Kung-Fu
Come on and get down and boogie oogie with the ruff neck
Hit women like Madonna all the way down to Smurfette
But first get your tables I roast
phlegm
i'll foreclose your mortgage
increase your interest
you can't pick up that princess phone
i'll call up the squad....
make you a roast lamb
get your tables I roast your whole record label kids
Yo E (what's up G?) Bridge
And you blow my mind, baby
And you blow my mind, baby
(Press
And I'm nervous now now I'm in your home
Eating Sunday roast
And I say the wrong thing
Then you catch my eye, give me a smile
Say you fit right in
We ran
and the night's gone
The oven roast doesn't overcook, oh
When you set it on, a timer
Give a bottle to the girl on your left, oh
She's a keeper, don't ya know?
It's
You got me into this
Got me into this darker roast
You got me into this
Got me into this finer roast
On this winding Estes Road
You got me into this
Magnificent rush, overflow for the better
Slowly roast, pull out now, feel it in your fingertips
It's so easy to pretend. So easy to... pretend. OH
close aye I I I
Fuck it yungin it's a birthday toast
Bad bitches big bottles
Lotta reefa for the roast aye
December 20th I gotta do the most
I be ballin
and broods in the thickening gloom
It's a gloom that congeals; it's so greasy and thick
You could cut into strips and roast on a stick
And hand round
Good morning, son
I am a bird
Wearing a brown polyester shirt
You want a Coke?
Maybe some fries?
The roast beef combo's only nine ninety five
open
You wanna stay clear of the prognosis
Pride provoked him, watch demotion
Watch em' close enough
Don't let the holster break or roast ya'
full of GOATs and ima roast em up today
I can't believe I gotta beat up on these bleating bloody bleeders
Gotta re-up on the meat I'm cooking, heat up
house, yo, yo
Come see the sideshow, nigga how it go?
With my eyes closed I can hit nine folks
You want the beef nigga? Here the prime roast
My mic's
Yeah a check up
Yeah a check up
Go to the doctors you get the rest yeah
Pass him to the back
Now he gonna put his neck up
You got spaghetti
Gonna roast
the drop Rolls
Watching rats in the pot roast
Finger polish with the top coat
The bottom platinum but the top gold
Bling bling, that's barcode
Ring
competitive, let's see who move the most
I gave my niggas game before they do the roast
Now let's talk about numbers, I really do 'em both
I still got two
home!
Stinking on water I could use me food
He needed big fat gravy on the wake of pot roast
Got a fire inside
It's gonna burn him alive
Talking
honky's fine
Gettin' mine, just like I'm supposed to
And if you fuck with the Rock, I'll roast you
A little toast to the real MC's
Ain't no love for
ghostly
Rush me, 'cause you ain't gonna live to roast me
I'll have my motherfuckin' ass kicked by Moby
If I let some bitch in the can like 'Bis cop over
a honey coiled ham
Some people like to roast a leg of lamb
Some people have a complicated coat to mend
We'll all be milking goats in the end
Oh, poor old
I remember a dark and smoky den
Cheeks of roast beef, bloody and rare
Whiskey etched faces of barrel chested men
And I'm feeling small, weak
it's my autumn almanac.
La-la-la-la...
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
I like my football on a Saturday,
Roast beef
his lips
I love it when my friends call back
I love showin' them brand new tracks
I love roasting 'em all
And hearin' them all roast me back
Y'all
Hot roach
Joint roast
Light the paper up
And then it's hot toast
I said I'll
Hot roach
Joint roast
Light the paper up and then I got stoned
I said
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