|
Lace up your |
|
Timbs, Queens, fresh off the blacktop |
|
All foreign recital (?), fiends on the backlot |
|
Back alley |
|
Bronson always cookin' up a mad plot |
|
The shit that have us laid in |
|
Benzes with a glass top |
|
Hash pot, stickin' out the dash spot |
|
I'll leave a bitch in a vacant and let his ass rot |
|
One seven for (?) an autobahn is where the cash drop |
|
Then take the paper, then distribute to the have-nots |
|
I'm on the scene, 26, and |
|
I'm a manchild' |
|
Lo machete, hoppin' out the fan's style (?) |
|
Whether fightin' or graffiti, got them hand styles |
|
I'll wipe the floor up with your face like a |
|
ShamWowHands down, one motherfucker260 combined, here to bring the ruckus |
|
The bassline plus the words raise the crime rate |
|
Bronsolini show 'em how to hold a 9 straight |
|
Yo, get off the next man's |
|
P.PBe original, kid, get off the |
|
P.PGet off the shaft or my chick, get off the |
|
P.PYo, be original, kid, get off the |
|
P.PYo, the drugs are rolled up, the money fold up |
|
I like my bitches big-body like an old truck |
|
With their waists sliced inches like the cold cuts |
|
Been at the bottom of the sea, but then |
|
I rose upFeet first, my voice is known to curl a honey's toes |
|
Serve a pound of that, |
|
I'll leave 'em with a bloody nose |
|
Smoke the hash, take it, form like a puddy, holmes |
|
Hop in the |
|
Caddy, leave your body by a muddy road |
|
A dirty rotten scoundrel like |
|
Steve Martin |
|
Drugs so good, |
|
Fiend Weekly just three-starred 'em |
|
I'm on the road, blow trees through |
|
East Harlem |
|
Just put me in a cage in the basement, |
|
I'm retarded |
|
German shift, twist, burn to bliss |
|
I love it when the pussy tighter than a tourniquet |
|
Copped the chicken, started cookin' and converted it |
|
Dutch leaf, third of it, roll it up, murder it |