2ndcentury - fake taxi driver lyrics
[verse: howie blaze]
uh
made it out the womb bumpin’ anita baker
you bricking shots from the deep, russ on the lakers
catch me running from the paper
see me in the limousine
super slimey, my plots like turpentine
hit the body shop, feelin’ like i’m david lynch
blacked out benz with the seats, blue velvet
i need some p+ssy right now, who sells it?
five australian b+tches, i’m too selfish
uh
nutted on a columbian stripper, i’m a big tipper
you ain’t gotta believe like ripley’s
but my life is that crazy, like a movie dirеcted by scorsese
you can say plеase, two times like tony
you buy her prada just to hit, that sh+t is phony
delta gamma, these b+tches hammered
she unb+ttoned my pants, looking for the big banana
[verse: john suburban]
sippin’ john daly’s on the daily, i ain’t failin’
(pop!)
can’t catch suburban in a whip that’s not mclaren
(vroom!)
i’m a fake taxi driver, deniro
(deniro!)
treasure on my neck, and my arm’s jack sparrow
(arghh!)
droppin’ ancient bars, this my scripture, i’m a pharaoh
legolas the way i shoot my shot, like an arrow
(pew!)
you better show love for 2ndcentury when in the club
health center mobbin’, f+cked around and caught a tug
surrounded by my dawgs in the stu, i’m nick chubb
howie dropped a stack for columbian grub
(yum!)
[verse: sophisto]
howie be droppin’ all these stacks
yeah
i’m with my boy jp, we in the studio
we be hittin’ sunset strip, we tryna booty scope
yeah we hit the body shop, bad b+tches they all topless
up on the counter, benjamins i be droppin’
i’m hittin dingers, i be eatin’ burgers at the counter (barry bonds!)
we in the 3+1+0, we p+ssy pounders
i’m with howie and suburban, we surrounded by fine females
good weed, we on a mountain
[interlude: harvey keitel & robert deniro ]
“iris? c’mon get out of here man”
“you don’t know anybody named iris?”
“i don’t know n0body named iris!”
[verse: howie blaze]
she said i’m acting crazy, that sh+t don’t phase me
i’m making classics lately, travis bickle but i’m in the navy
the flow is wavy, invested in the startup
when it blows up, i’m blowing on the hazy
[interlude: harvey keitel & robert deniro]
“get the f+ck out of here man, just get out of here”
“suck on this!”
[verse: john suburban & howie blaze]
know me as suburban, but the alter ego shotgun
think you 2ndcentury groupie thot, well you’re not one
spider+man fam, i’m my godfather’s godson
dinner with the raimis, now i made a simple plan
she playing with c+ck, i’m not talking clash of clans
fake taxi driver, we be skirting in the lamb
drivin’ ms. daisy when i whip the fake taxi
feelin’ schitzo when i’m faded b+tch, don’t @ me
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