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Yee yee! We've found 843 lyrics and 112 artists matching bunk off.
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served up When I get it, I'll spit enough, aim sturdy Cut it up, gut it up, with colds cuts And in a oven I'll heat it up, came dirty I be off'a that
is rotten fruit But Top don't sign niggas who mumble Or rap like Dr seuss I open fire on my enemies, that's case closed The bottom bunk's the only time
wasn't slime, nigga Laid inside my bunk, I slept with murder on my mind, nigga I'ma knock them niggas off like back-to-back, bitch, when it's time, nigga
The man above was a murderer the man below was a thief And I lay there in the bunk between ailing beyond belief A weary armful of skin and bone
I didn't ask for this You give me heart attack I didn't want to care And then I saw you there Been working like a dog I turned all my dreams off I
We busted the bunk bed We all do what Anne says Tore down some paper rolled up the rugs Brass dish stuck to it Spread out melted candle Some had
Utaarde ye diamonds, you can’t pull em off Mat kar cocaine, you can’t pull it off Patola ne penha tha V.S, she took it off yeh Uski figure thi
north Stocky young fella, running his lips on how he set it off Then heard that shit, plus got that kite Money got murdered in his bunk that night
wack All my cuts are bunk They said I live in a slum My father's a bum They said my sister's a crackhead My brother's drinkin' rum But I
Can get it off by tomorrow It's wicked when my favorite uncle kick it Fiends trying to kick the addiction Of sucking glass dicks Vivid images go against
Oh, the age of the inmates I remember quite freely: No younger than twelve, No older 'n seventeen. Thrown in like bandits And cast off like
Finally out the motherfuckin see-p-t Off to other cities and shit No longer just an underground hit Movin thangs... a local nigga made good
Finally out the motherfuckin see-p-t Off to other cities and shit No longer just an underground hit Movin thangs... a local nigga made good
money then check this out your pop in the trunk Three mil in a month but I just did three years on a bunk Oh you in a slump I'm headed to Oakland like
ain't the same in they town And as fucked up as it may sound (in my hood) It's 2 ways to make it happen off the streets Balling on the courts
north Stocky young fella, running his lips on how he set it off Then heard that shit, plus got that kite Money got murdered in his bunk that night
is in the building Penthouse fashion, ordered out room service It looked bugged cause the waiter looked nervous Lift off the lid, seen two shiny
south funk when I clown out punk-ass Police want to call dogs and sound off pumps I short your blaupunkts if you thump my tape Yo dial funk if
a stand off clip That'll kill your click and will kill your brain if you can't maintain Better slow your roll boy money hungry ain't no ho boy That's for
as fuck, cause' I got blessed fools and babies When I was fifteen I was a felon When you were fifteen you were yelling Mama come get this nigga off my
but in her mind, she made it where Nothing really matters So she hit the back seat 'Cause Rosa Parks never a factor When she toppin' off police Fancy
Smoking weed in the park Vision in our eyes Tryin make it home foe dark Flippin off the clothes line, holes in our jeans F***in wit these hoes mind,
the spit came sweeping through the roar With me head inside a barrel and me leg screwed in the floor Mother pack me bags because I'm off to foreign parts
way that boys of twelve can be We used to sleep in his bunk beds With Beatles posters at our heads Through good and bad, through thick and thin He
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