Афонина Татьяна фотограф Москва

Cru

Lisa Lipps

  hip-hop  ambient  rap  classic hip-hop  def jam
574 3 часа назад

Текст песни Cru - Lisa Lipps

Cru - Lisa Lipps слова песни

[Mighty Ha]Run for the cueLisa LippsWas a Rolling Stone, huhYeah, wherever she slap slob wasn`t homeAnd now she`s gone, ain`t no sunShine meaning she`s gone"Hum-do-a-lah", that means "What up, Shah?"It`s the Mighty Ha drinkin` Mo` at the barBakee after bakee, blunt after bluntSmoke a bag of buhdah and became bitche`s with the skunkNat "King" Cole was a merry old soulMade you move that ab, drop shit from your wholeGrab a budjock and lick shot from the glockYou were told to swing off a tree from a jumpRun up in attics and Elvis, now I`m goneBack on the streets in the heart of P LongMan oh man lick shots if I have toSubmit to me as your lord and masterIt`s the Mighty Ha, I`m a street Bronx, IDeliver the real like Walter ChronkiteGod I`m a destiny, black manDevil`s in the rain receive the backhandYesterday, my trouble seems so far awaySo help me Wanda, help, help, me WandaBe a none beast known and the Y-O-GMake your moon walk, spin walk grab your ti-tyHit you in the head with the broom to the backSport a pair of Balley`s and a Mighty Ha hatComin from the Bronx like KRS-OneElectrify the crowd like they shooting stone gunsRhythem Blunt Cru, Violator, Def JamKnown for tricken lyrics and smackin mad handsAhh, don`t give a uhCaught for the cause 17 to the shotIt`s the Mighty Ha with the mic and the glockMy style`s buck naughty what day is it ack?Type of situation pops from uptownYou can lick balls cause I front to be downTil I lie rep a dollar kickin the Willies to the HiedyRhythem Blunt Cru, "Baby" Chris LightyPonies never ran beforeRain never fellTil I met youAnd I can`t get enough of your love, babeWhat!?Chim, chim, chiminie chim, chim, che-reeComin from the top, ah, it`s the Migh-tyHit you with the felony and a misdemeanorHit a hundred push-ups and I got the spray AlenorGot mad buttocks, ass cheeks, yo stopGot more charges than a Nicachew pacI`m the maker, owner, cream of the cropFelicha you erection to the topI can`t seem to get rid of these fuckin chickenheadsWord to the mother drop dead brest fedYou better duck down when I draw my 8 lugerScoop that ass quickie, better skin bag of booty[DJ Footlong]What goes on ya heard?

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