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  • Текст песни Flatbush ZOMBiES - Bounce

    Исполнитель: Flatbush ZOMBiES
    Название песни: Bounce
    Дата добавления: 14.06.2016 | 00:17:12
    Просмотров: 41
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    Тут расположен текст песни (слова песни) Flatbush ZOMBiES - Bounce, перевод и видео (клип).
    [Verse 1: Meechy Darko]
    YSL pants with the zippers, yikes
    Met her this evenin' already hit it, twice
    Tag on your soul everybody got a price
    Acid, acid, change yo life
    Bape if she hipster, Saint Laurent if she bougie
    I'm faded like Boosie
    She call me Meechy over, I slide in that coochie
    Nosedive in that coochie
    My dick is big, it should be wearin' a Coogi
    Imma need some friends
    Tie dyed my lifestyle
    Even bleached the pants
    Next week Japan
    Thom Browne bubble lens, I need the tint
    Flatbush, Brooklyn, from the County of Kings, ah
    Run up on me like I'm some hippie, nigga
    And die under the knife, Joan Rivers
    Ooh, damn, that punchline delivers
    Hold up wait a minute, moment of silence
    Hm, Fuck it
    Let's get back to wylin'
    Blood on your Timbs, Shoot Shoot
    Blood at your limbs, tuh tuh
    Split at your rims
    Ambidextrous, I shoot with two hands
    Even got blood on your friends
    I think I just flooded the Benz
    Damn it, baby, Meechy's at it again
    M-M-Murder, murder, murder
    Capital M with two gats in my hand

    [Verse 2: Zombie Juice]
    Everyday a nigga wake up, got to blaze a little chronic
    Thank the universe, a blessing, new day, a new dollar
    Middle finger to my niggas and my bitches two times
    Representing for my niggas in the hood it's no ceiling
    Sellin', trappin' like a villain, cold
    Should've made a killing, go
    Finger played with it, yo
    Nigga stay with it
    Hate a nigga, fade him quicker now
    Dum diddy dum
    I, I, I, I, I high like the sun
    Fetch a frequency, this ain't shit to me
    She said she got a friend, then let my nigga beat
    Meech, Roll em, Bust em, cannons, wooh
    Spliff long looking like a Manson
    I'm on acid feeling like the Hamptons
    She feeling freaky beat the pussy like a champion
    Young nigga but I'm still O.G
    Supreme Team like 1993
    Triple 6 on my coffin, I dance with the devil
    Came back with a vengeance, Christ off the hinges
    I'm nice with the spit kid, twice as much vicious
    Psycho-active, I'm on a mission
    Electric KoolAde, Make your decision
    You want it, I get you
    These niggas ain't right, they can't write they own shit
    But they smile in your face, and they claim they the shit
    But to me a disgrace
    Trying to keep steps ahead like we running a race
    Got an ounce to burn, got a trip to make
    Free my niggas lawd, made it right today
    Got an ounce to burn, got a trip to make

    [Verse 3: Erick Arc Elliott]
    Not a thug but niggas know how I keep mine
    Call her up or quick to throw up the peace sign
    Girl, that pussy let me hit it
    Girl, I got to get it
    Saying she got a feeling, she let a young nigga hit it
    Back and forth cause we smoke them seven grams
    Billboard shit I don’t expect you to understand
    My performance, dreams at 14
    Now I hear them calling two to their seats
    Won’t slip away this is serious business
    Voided in mischief while spending these Benjamins
    Open the potential pussy to me
    Brought to you by the ungrateful police
    Conscious keep telling me, beautiful melody
    Will exhibit if I trip on the L.S.D
    Nah, we don't fund for money and dro
    Some people think I spend money, for sure
    Spending show money
    Flip like aerobics
    Components will kill my opponents
    I sit on my throne, it's enormous
    Composed with the chorus
    My karma is good, dog, and y'all need supportin'
    My bitch is so gorgeous, I cannot afford
    To spend time with her when chasin' these whores
    Money, keep countin'
    She strip like Lance Mountains
    My passport is packed
    How I travel, astoundin' (Yeah)
    Thug Waffle did that
    Now we comin' back for the killer contract
    Pull up on your pampers
    Three man army
    Address the bitch niggas in a song, call it Palm Trees
    Not a fan of you if you ain't ever hug my moms, b
    Not a fan of niggas that be talkin' where I'm gon' be
    Talk a lot of mess, leave you niggas out of pocket
    Don't talkin' to me less you talkin' bout a profit

    [Outro: Zombie Juice and Meechy Darko]
    Universe a blessing, a new day a new dollar
    Tag on your soul, everybody got a price
    Acid, acid changed your life

    Смотрите также:

    Все тексты Flatbush ZOMBiES >>>

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