't you know, without the right food to grow you won't break the soil come summer. from punk house to punk house, it's always been somebody else's scene
Prijevod: Vrsta kao pljuvanje. Scena.
don't you know, without the right food to grow you won't break the soil come summer. from punk house to punk house, it's always been somebody else's scene
coffins [Mad Child] Mad Child steppin on the scene like Batman Gold wings comin out my supreme backpack I'm old school, hardcore like Black Flag Chasin rappers down, I chomp 'em up like
spit the Remy or laugh in ya face This dig in my waste, is mastery, step out of place Shatter that ass, like glass, and break fast like a neglige Play
like a roach, can I make it last? Like a quick half ounce, another thing from the past You're the kind of motherfucker talking shit bitch I'm the kind
hood got more slack Than eighty-eight cowboys ridin' on horse back Top that! the Mexicans all that Strike like a snake and attack like a bobcat [Verse
Come and get some If you want some Yeah, welcome to "The Lounge" For jump off Yours truly, Guru Shut up, my man! BT on a track Playin' like that Comin
ima bad bitch on all fours the president be like its all yours Weezy and Nicki bring the A game high stats go to heaven like Ricky and his eye patch all up in it like
skills be on point like a flyin' dart Sometimes I feel like the messiah of a dyin' art A whole 'nother animal, not the kind that departed on the giant
We like the music with the vocals mixed low We speak of songs as if no one else knows So unoriginal, our M.O. Until something better happens Until we
we hang the phone But it's not like you're alone A scene as awkward, but not really like an end And it's not like we're just friends So strange to really like
I see your hands full I watch you grow old How many smiles have you been faking From what I'm told you'd like to see a coffin fold There is no sympathy
you got angry I ran fast when you got clean Your friends all solved your problems Paid your debts with all my things Friends all got burned out on the scene
.I.P. Shawty A man, this for all my home girls that like to see a baller do his thing (Get ya shit together, come on) All the 8's, 9's, and dimes I like
have me beggin' for more And even hotter when her Victoria Secrets drop to the floor (She's hot) Hot like Elle, hot like getting' down with Giselle What the hell? Hot like
we don't care Cause all my niggas posting bail, uh Sometimes I feel like a nut Sometimes I don't Thinking that I won't get 'em left on the scene Like
'cause the South on there stayin' [First Verse (Baby Beesh):] Some of you G's can't help it, We love our money green like the Boston Celtics, They
