Search results for '6 8 by hot rod circuit' Page #16

lobsters lumping
Ten bok choys boiling
Nine oysters oiling
Eight frog legs fryin
Seven-year-olds crying
Six eggs a-dropping
Five Golden Wings
Four bowls

smoking hot, bro (She was hot)
She had a total nip slip (What?)
Yeah, it's like she doesn't even
Grow hair on her body
She's just this tan beauty queen

internet clowns who be lying to show that they perfect
Coming in hot, wired into the circuit
No rumor is true bout me, I ain't confirmed it
All these people

and Turned him into an alarm clock
Now I wake up everyday at 6:66 On the dot dot dot
Asked my uncle to teach me Nirvana on the guitara
But he told me he only

my guac
I don’t mean amole
Feel like I’m being watched
I don’t mean a Rollie (Okay)
I’m half past seven o' clock
All by my lonely (Kyuh)
Spit's got

Slip Kid

Anvil

Songs of Anarchy: Music from Sons of Anarchy Seasons 1-4 [Original TV Soundtrack]

2011

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight 

I've got my clipboard, text books
Lead me to the station
Yeah, I'm off to the civil war
I've

can sit eight seasons cold even when it's hot
Come on drop the top for my Impala and shit
Nigga I'm out to get paper spit some dollars and shit
See

Track 6 Step On Da Gas By Souljah100
 Step On Da Gas By Souljah100
Hook
Step on da gas
Don't slow down
When we hit da club-It's time to clown
Clap

Rapper's Delight [Long Version]

The Sugarhill Gang

The Message: The Roots of Rap

1999

on-and-and-on-and-on-on-and-on
Like a hot buttered pop-da-pop-da-pop, dibbie dibbie
Pop-da-pop-pop, you don't dare stop
Come alive, y'all, gimme whatcha got

I guess by now

the prada.

8.6 hit the boy like Mr miyagi, karate peformed by the choppa.

Chop the boy down and his mama like lumber, we brought the mask out think we won

by twelve than carried by six for a dumb ass reason
All ask is you pray for me while on this road to them riches
Face people who change like

Drip is in sicko mode
One, two, three that's how the opps click
Four, five load up the chopsticks
Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven
Eight

Through the crowd and scooped up one of the ducks

He made a mad dash for the door
Vinnie's goons following him in hot pursuit
But he held them back by

Sold em six mollies to a stoner
Smoke grass laid back we tokers
More money than Al Roker Phat Cash

Tha Penis
I'm a genius
Hot and ready little Caesar's

Coast to Coast Gangstas

Sauce Money

The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1

2003

in a bag and a breath away from dyin'
Nigga I'm - the epitomy of raw rhymes
The epitomy of rap rock
I make a block party bop to the sounds of a hot

Jiggen & finessing all these nigga's want my spot
Twelve just rolled by twice I think the block is getting hot
Loaded up all the drugs we located

Run that up Rico
I'm from da noke, yeah that's Five Four O Straight out from Willow, in  O Three move to Eight O Four
Yeah that's henrico, that's my

I tell em, I say
One yourself when 2 niggas run up with 3 gats
A four, five, six shots
Seven like eight claps
Da nine milli throw ten shots
Where ya

Shawty, pull your gown down (down)
Uh, yeah
She like that metal shit?
I got a metal rod
My chopper go sing that shit (ay)
Sounding like Liv Rod
My bitch go

water boys getting it in
In the trunk like whodini bangin' like old school friends
We back to back lamborghinis rocking like cartier lenz
I'm just eight

Pretty little girl looking after me, I was seven she was sixteen
Being left at home by my family, little did they know what was about to begin
Pop

2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Look at all these lies they generate 
Soo much money I can't calculate 
Try to steal it you will fade away
Devils lettuce I'm on it

loud six feet my ego grow
Shawty grip it both hands letting off my eagle low
Bust it back and forth there's no remorse
I win of course I'm in
You

the problem solver
Coming through with the 6 shell revolver
Hot as lava
Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber
Gangster saga, the motha-fuckin'