Lyrics:
The '07 Ice Cube, B. Sig so rude Tell a trick, get these nuts, eat dick like food Now see if I care if this verse get aired Even if you mute it the curse
ain't no disco, This ain't no fooling around This ain't no Mudd Club, or C. B. G. B., I ain't got time for that now Heard about Houston? Heard about
back, bad bitches on the couch Ahh, wordplay, Olubowale my first name I think I’m Koko B. wearin, you just a bird babe I got a pair of J’s, I roll
wordplay, Olubowale my first name I think I'm Koko B. wearin, you just a bird babe I got a pair of J's, I roll a pair of J's We up in Diamond supply, spending
with Mrs. L. B. Jones And if he keeps making fancy passes I'll start holding evening classes I'll give him sugar and molasses And the life, I live
A troupe of strolling players are we, not stars like L. B. Mayer's are we, But just a simple band who roams about the land, Dispensing plentyof
can feel dis Mo b. d put it on the back so y'all can peel dis Craig be whipped it up with some be 12s I slung it on the street to make the muthafucka
Let me show you how we get the money legit Jack B. Nimble was nimble, and he was quick Rev. Run, D.M.C. is the 'Kings of Rock' Rolled to the top
Writers B. Eggers, J. Eggers Copyright 1970 It ain't fair for you to leave me cold and cryin' in the night It ain't fair to take your body from my
untouched by the man Songs we used to sing used to mean something Now they just bland like the drummer Where's the real drummer? Michael B. Mint
The '07 Ice Cube, B. Sig so rude Tell a trick, get these nuts, eat dick like food Now see if I care if this verse get aired Even if you mute it the curse
(Based on a poem by W. B. Yeats) That lover of a night Came when he would, Went in the dawning light Whether I would or no; Men come, men go;
[Mo B. Dick] Things ain't what they used to be. Things ain't what they used to be. [Verse 1: Master P] I remember back in the days it wasn't
In a place that's not too far, back home Took a train to Jordan And to Texas and back I met Lyndon B. Johnson and I felt his hand on my back
with Mrs. L. B. Jones And if he keeps making fancy passes I'll start holding evening classes I'll give him sugar and molasses And the life, I live
Now Peter Piper picked peppers, but Run rapped rhymes Humpty Dumpty fell down, that's his hard time Jack B. Nimble, what, nimble, and he was quick
and Cecil B. DeMille He could die happily ever after Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for the fuse I'm in
click Talking 'bout, "Ruck, let's battle," on some 8 Mile shit I'm like, "Nigga, my name ain't B. Rabbit" It's Sean Price, Big Ruckus from busting
progress I come in the tradition of Harriet Tubman, Ida B. Wells, Ella Baker, and Angela Davis Mixed with a little bit of Jada Pinkett Smith and Cardi B
the hydrents R.I.P Stack B. I'm gonna keep you alive kid Dressed in something so fresh and wonderful F-N-F and S-N double O-P Gather 'round, go a-head
know about a Robb Report 'Bout a high speed Porsche, i.e. You niggas ain't know how to floss 'til I came through the door Like 'Eric B. for Pres,'
God (yeah) Oh God (boy) Yeah, G.O.O.D. (MMG, nigga) Chain all V.S. I ain't with the B.S Catch me in your city riding hard through the B.X
please, they must be on E's and dust Then niggas f'in with pills, y'all don't get G's like us Nigga please, y'all young'ns ain't got OG's like me B. Sig,
for me face the judge and lie for me P. I. T. T. S. B. U. R. G. H. Represent to the fullest And I'm putting cowards back into place When I'm
Discuss these b.s Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In