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D-12 f Bugz

Cock and Squeeze

385 3 часа назад

Текст песни D-12 f Bugz - Cock and Squeeze

D-12 f Bugz - Cock and Squeeze слова песни

Yeah, y`all faggots..(Hear me? Yeah.. ready set.. then take shit)Y`all, the fuck? Who wanna battle, what?None of y`all, do you? (no)Dirty Dozen, Outsidaz (what?) bitchWho wanna battle?[Bugz ?]Gimmie some hash, and when I trip nigga gimmie your massThen after that lend me your mag and gimmie yo` cashThat precious pen you call the life, I put it in too fastGet in your ass if you unhappily leave Eagle Man (yeah)You wanna see through glass, don`t pay much to breeze through class(bitch) You broke as fuck and on the bus because your evil smashThis shit is lethal fast, battle me, I keep you madPut you in a sleeper drag, your ass to the reepers padEither blast, or feel the wrath of my heater ladLyric punches makin meters blast, turn your speaker outRear, club, or anywhere where there`s people atThey love my day, couldn`t care where they leave`s you atYour girl`s a rat, tell that hoe I`m not gon` beep her backDon`t need her glock, got too many other neater ratsWho heater fat? I bet your gat ain`t fuckin wit my gatI`m on the lyrics, sayin the vocals that you almost clap(clap clap) Don`t clap, you mo` wack than a cold sackYou showin that when you blow, that`s a known factClone rap, suck a MC broad, need to pick another fuedWhat? And find you a job, or either go out and rob becauserappin ain`tcha function, you outta placelike a two of hearts and two of diamond in a game of spadesWhile my inovative ways, shootcha lyrics to a blazePut a grimace on your grade, I`ma guiness on the pageThe history, puttin, suckin niggaz out they miseryIt`s not a mystery, my victorys are bodacious (hah)It wouldn`t matter if the judge is racistAnd I was battlin your aces in your bitches basementI`m unfuck-witable, thats literal, face it, the generalThe sisters of a senate-al, holdin on my genetalsRight before I send the blows, down to earth like mineralsEven after centerfolds (grr arf!) the videos, my evil goesincognito hoes, I`ma skitle bros, Meena biterI hope you niggaz catch a case of arthrit-ahYou ain`t no riders, and still don`t even have a sliderI D her when you need me, we gon` burst in into fighters(yeah, yeah bitch!) You motherfuckin tighter[Chorus]Cock, and, squeeze, bust, Dirty Dozen, don`t fuck wit usDetriot niggaz roll deep, hoe heat, and fuck SlickYeah, yeah bitch - stay off my dick![Kon Artis]That`s the time that you up and cuttin you wit a knifeThe situan, the alcohol bath for the nightThen watch the strugglin, you squeal for your life (uh-huh)Dump a radio bumpin your demo in the bath wit the lightThat`s what I take from you, meet you and fake humbleAttack your foundation until it crumbleSo me and my dawg be on stumbleCome off `gnac but stayin in the right mindIt`s the blazin track and we`re back, for fake individuals that rapScreamin out they group name like they scared and shitKnownin that the Kon Artis come prepared wit clipsFull of them male scritches (what?)You watch and take pictures (how you do that?) Notes and write down poets and `bout how I rap and get witchaTold you niggaz before we got much the gameNuttin to lose, corruptin the lives of all groupsTie `em up and put `em in situations to hurt `emTie `em up to trees, you was throwin darts at `emwit venom in `em, then murder `em, servin `em rightHe be, the Kon Artis {*screech*} swervin the nightWe rock from state to state (uh-huh) and city to cityYou make us sick like a faggot tryin silicon tittiesand already want a size D bra, I wanna die wit tight shitGive it to y`all bleek raw, raw, raw, raw, rawYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah[Chorus][Proof]Gimmie a sicker than (?), check it outI turn a hard nigga yellow, and bake his ass faster than a cheetahDon`t blaze no blunts (uh-huh) but I blaze them thangsAmaze your gang, wit bullets, I rattle your frameWho`s that, bustin at, Big Suburban, hustle thatPlay wit three bitches alias and four hustlersBustin three glocks, on your blockYellin my name loud, puttin bombs inside your mailboxand prepare docks - punch your dreadlocks, wait for the copsand tell `em that yo` ass had beef wit Biggie and 2Pac I lit the flesh (uh-huh) shot bled to death (what?)Like Red and Meth, you need the hoop-a, shoop-afor battlin boards, got on a moyer, I sat on your horseGot battled thanks to your tours, show up at youbattlin your eyecore, pure wit this shitOn your mic rip, you might slip, fall, hang it uplike Sonny (?), peace to (?)Rock `til the early morn`, shit is onGotta a problem fiend, fiend problemsMy crew mug shot D-12 uglier than the green goblinI bring fear too, horror, near youA fact why nobody wanna hear you, you wack BITCH!What the fuck you thought what happenedwhen bullets start collapsin your frameMaintain to bring pain, freestyle fanatic named PeteFirst is off the paper, this one turn your auto vaporMe, MC, the extraordinar`, steppin on your (?)Screamin "7 Mile bitch, come from Runyan"Hold down your fort, snort like cocaineRichard Pryor, I clap more clips than (?)Yeah, yeah bitch, what the fuck you thought?Ya niggaz get caught (?), I`m incredible like the hawkWatchin the facet nigga, P-R, the letter OMy sex is hetero, cash checks like federalYour hetero, bitch! Hahahaha

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