andre nickatina - bobble heads (feat. black c) lyrics
call me a psycho cus i just might go
shoot up ya block cus you’re walkin’ on a tight-rope
plus i’m off that nitro, yea that’s that loud pack
we don’t smoke bammer so its best that you fall back
san francisco ball cat, you’re f-ckin with a giant
ya n-gg-s say ya real but the real is ya lyin
[?] is what i don’t do, real is what i live by
f-ck whatcha goin’ through if you’re tryna (tempt[?]) mine
im tryna get mine ballin f-ck getting by
you suckas hatin’ cus you fallin’ like a zipline
while i sip wine with a thick b-tch with thick thighs
small waist pretty face, tryna get high
she said she like real n-gg-s, no farce
but you’re b-tchmade actin worse than these broads
goin’ through they menstral, all up in ya mental
just like a b-tch ya keep d-ck up in ya dental
d-mn
it’s the god khan version, magic, ervin
all them suckas is crashin’, burnin’
money, gone, lookin all old
look at my poker face, i’ll never fold
c-ck, reload, sellout shows
mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
hammer up like stan burrell on bail
you can hip, hop on the m-th-f-ckin’ jock
i’m an rbl n-gg- getting money ’round the clock
and these b-tches don’t stop when it comes to this black n-gg-
in the bay, i’m a legendary rap figure
plus a cap pealer, homie thats a fat n-gg-
you’re not loyal to the soil you’s a rat n-gg-
and i’m a real one, the last of a dying breed
i’m off kush muhf-ckah you smoke bammer weed
i f-ck with top notch b-tches in that prada wear
you f-ck with low budget b-tches with them bobble heads
yea, you n-gg-s strictly sickly
for real, you n-gg-s can’t get with me
and you can believe it or not like ripleys
ya boy been an underground king like pimp c
or like mac dre, or like mr. c
i go hard on a b-tch, no sympathy
it’s the god khan version, magic, ervin
all them suckas is crashin’, burnin’
money, gone, lookin all old
look at my poker face, i’ll never fold
c-ck, reload, sellout shows
mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
hammer up like stan burrell on bail
you say oh god cus im givin’ you h-ll
leather jacket, adidas with them sh-lls
you can miss me like a stray bullet
gary coleman on ya -ss with a new qillis
sheeit, god-khan but i’m still a capo
i let the weed hit me while jimi hendrix sang sand castles
i dip through the big pineapple
and if you see me real quick its something like an eye sample
it’s the god khan version, magic, ervin
all them suckas is crashin’, burnin’
money, gone, lookin all old
look at my poker face, i’ll never fold
c-ck, reload, sellout shows
mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
hammer up like stan burrell on bail
Random Lyrics
- jerry goldsmith - shaggy dog story lyrics
- amanda - hetki lyö lyrics
- why? - jonathan's hope lyrics
- grave - you'll never see lyrics
- kate nash - non-album track lyrics
- fair huxley - unclear lyrics
- ali - discúlpame lyrics
- carson lueders - pop lyrics
- pierrette adams - notre histoire lyrics
- verrell bramasta - tanya hati lyrics