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Текст песни M.M.O. - A Jazzy Rhyme

M.M.O. - A Jazzy Rhyme слова песни

[Intro: Naisha (Triggnomm)]Yo this shit`s recording kidSo drop some jazz shit (drop some shit)Drop some jazzy shit, (put the blunts down)Drop some jazzy shit, (son set it off, set it off)[Naisha]The State of Naisha, mug like Tai YungPiss fruit wine, travel like fruit fliesThrough blue skies, America, San Pucci can takeCushion, I owe extinction, and play bronzeWit violins, we deep like talonsIt`s Costello, the classic M.J. smoke weed saysLive like the life on ya R.C.A.The odyssey, blood and poetry, the shako wit potteryA mockery, to slay me a Mussolini wit KennedyMuscle me, Emilio Savage teamGoodfellas is obscene, my off the can is fuck up the sceneBonjour Madame, sushi, you bleed burgundyOh sanata, doing a bada, Benjamin on Pearl HarborUh, you feeling it, spoke the smooth words of Shawn CarterMy day will hood ya rob saga, the city in redSeen the crew, dealt the income, seven P.M.Bermuda tennis, remember in the A.M.Shit like stankon, or bredren, we spread like tiger bombTwisted and feel it on, black espionageBump Nas, crack the Naisha, all in favor[Chorus 2X: Triggnomm]It`s a jazzy rhyme from the J to the ZWit a classic shine like a `98 M3Smooth as Badu, slow mo` from MalibuTo Honolulu, The Massive, we comin` through[Triggnomm]Peep the latest, medallions playersMy scene is a drop top black Beem, interior mint greenPlus loaded, pass Naish` the dice, bet he roll it4-5-6, stock bank, now we holdin`Niggas is cucci, we absolutely get the lucciSon, I love money, like Ricky love LucyIn fact, I know this cat in Colorado named RicardoPushin` milato`s, money and murder was his mottoHe read the Bible, that`s only cuz he live the trifleNew his days were numbered the surface of discipleMeanwhile, he stay browsin` for housin`Cuz black cats just can`t play these maps wit thousandsIce jewels, cuz cash rule, keep a twoTrue hard knock, take that ass straight to school, sonI got a feeling we gon` rise this farWord bonds, scratchin` my palm, eatin` shrimp parmeganTrue Don Juan, wit the iced out clusters onYou gots to hustle, then son, get ya hustle onYou gots to gamble, then son, get ya gamble onBig Trigga, best believe, I`m gon` handle long[Chorus 4X]

Другие песни M.M.O.:

M.M.O. - Protect Ya Neck Collection, Vol. 1
4 часа назад 394 (не задано)
M.M.O. - A Jazzy Rhyme
3 часа назад 375 (не задано)

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