Print

The four-fifth symphony lift him It'll spin your head around like a rotisserie chicken I was born on the Red Sea, [?] vision We ain't A-Alikes, God, we completely different How much more proof you need that the boy crazy? I carry four pounds, like a premature baby Pussy boy, coming out his mouth, all shady I will punch him in his fucking teeth, all gravy I'm liable to take a young boy lunch box And if it's any resistance, then you gon' get punched off I catch homis, Lord, harder than punk rock I remeber 'xactly where I was when they slumped Pac [?], everything, but got cocky Philly wild with nice hands, but not Rocky Mami making [?], but it got sloppy Yous a bitch, [?] when he shot [?] The left hook startle 'em to end, is a mean [?] Sublime nature, I am from the sons of the Green Light I could tell from your eyes, something don't seem right Hands shake, brittle, so I know you the queen type It's five-fifty [?], force is absurd And God told me the pen is the source of the word How he call himself a rapper, but he awkward with words? In a city I diddy bop, walk with a bird Let's be honest, money, you just mediocre at best Letras de cancionesAnd these cop killers gonna put a hole in your chest I'm Vito [?] throwing [?] at the ref You like Luke on [?], almost frozen to death The straight right'll lift his fucking pussy outta shoes With no counters coming back and that's the point I'm trying to prove You ain't get the fucking point? That's the point that I don't lose You can see me muhfucker, I announce you on the news Yeah From Letras Mania