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the free-throw line and bang Now, I bust and crush tracks, nothin' really changed Except, twelve-inch scars on my body What I mean by that, I was hit by some
Even if I made an album With a Punjabi hit-squad Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross Make a man know, that I'm not a nimrod And if you still
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
this, Shorty ain’t ever met a nigga, Fondue’n, got drip like this, Bought a nice watch for the wrist, Gotta hit Abe’s for the steak, Sleep straight by
All you know when the album drop my name gonna blow like bang! I just bust down doors cuz all those watches never gonna be my thang My shit bang when
They 'boutta hit this muhfuckin' album (Oh oh-Oh, yeah yeah yeah yeah, whoa) Yeah-Yeah-Yeah-Yeah I done seen a lot of things, yeah yeah Nowadays, sit
Indeed truly we are the mighty mighty BDP posse This is our fourth album and we're still not takin' no shorts Yeah, ha hah! On the wheels
by the CIA or the industry Know where black hands be on black Glocks No back stabs or sad plots, we let them rot 1-800-Nas&Hit, don't call us with
with a odd alliance of fairytale Or maybe just a metal pail that you hit with a steel tools To announce that you've had enough and dropping out of seal
the Squad, try and shittin the God This ain't no "Scarface" shit, blow up your kids in the car And since you wanna act like you livin a movie I'll hit you
Yo, I've been sat back, relaxed with rap, I almost let the passion pass Procrastinating rapping Have them asking where the album at So fuck it, y'all
Yo, I've been sat back, relaxed with rap, I almost let the passion pass Procrastinating rapping Have them asking where the album at So fuck it, y'all
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
si cigu, vyfukujem dym Riešim len súčasný moment, nerozmýšľam nad ničím Nejak má chytá slina, dal by som si niečo piť Medzitým navarím další nový hit
'em out the box I got a rhyme to wake, you're sloppin' up and down the blocks There never was a time when I was down to meetin' by myself When all
bloodstains are all over this steel god dang-it Bitch bring it, these niggas that I hang with I hang you up naked by your ankles danglin' (ow, ow) My need I
in the pool with ya mama Attack her by the legs then I pull her to the bottom (yeah) Twist nothin' up like a condom Slap it if you fuckers got
étriquée de hit box, l'avidité du Hobbit Au lieu de se sauver on compare encore nos b
way onto In Utero) Following the release of In Utero in 1993 We once again hit the road Using left over props From the "Heart-Shaped Box" video Shoot
Everybody, everybody Everybody Everybody sit your bitch ass down and Listen to this true mothafuckin' story told by Kendrick Lamar on Rosecrans,
got wise by hard livin' I sleep all day, smoke haze, manage` women I spit these hard rhythms, it feel like a car hit 'em So leave that boy alone, can't
Yoda A Florida, Pensacola There's more to roll-a by Motorola I'm in control-a, I hit the quota I made this beat sound while I was in Minnesots Fuck,
do not hot, box When I be rapping and dropping them hits then I promise I'm leaving you jaw, dropped Don't got a drop, top I don't got a rock, watch
Kollár V piči jak ľudia čo hovoria soráč Olá sme hot jak plynový šporák Zas ďalší album a zas ďalší hit Tam kde dáme feat to je heat jak Miami Sold
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