Lyrics:
of Beverly Beverly
[Lil Bing]
Two joints be smellay in my Cadi
Drivin badly ti Cali
Hastled by federalis
Drippin candy
Sippin brandy
Twenty inches look
and think
I lose myself in a cradle of a sadistic hate
I slowly shake
It rings in my blood, and I salivate
Like a chorus of cats in heat,
For
ball, I recall, me and GZA, Dirty
Hangin in halls, bangin on walls
Kickin rhymes three hours straight with no pause
Boostin from Freeport sunrise
it takes to make 'em gel
And in Washington I'm known by one and all
As the hostess with the mostest on the ball
They would go to Elsa Maxwell
And before I could God
There we were one-two-three-four-five seconds
Her on the floor me on the floor
When she and I
Stared at each other
As we may have stared
drop
in the now, i'm bangin niggaz for slide time
hurry up duke i'm next, show em mine
and what the fuck is you looking at?
by the way young blood, hit
Reveal some company unthought of
Rael stands astonished doubting his sight,
Struck by beauty, gripped in fright;
Three vermilion snakes of female face
pink water
Reveal some company unthought of
Rael stands astonished doubting his sight,
Struck by beauty, gripped in fright;
Three vermilion snakes
never be me
More than rims and inches, talking limbs and lynching's
Cut from the cloth of the cotton that my granny picked
Work like an amputee, ain't
on TV could never be me
More than rims and inches, talking limbs and lynching's
Cut from the cloth of the cotton that my granny picked
Work like
Make your blood boil
Well I should say
Now friends, let me tell you what I mean
You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table
Pockets
Prisoners are guided through the golden halls of the palace of the souls.
Fairytales that have lost their gruesome origin by being handed down from
a final drink.
A raven who was drinking his blood,
tripped over his intestines.
The hero gave a last great laugh,
and tied himself against a stone,
He
bars I could write
I been feeling so insane I hear the blood in my veins
Every bar got me tweakin' like the Xanny's for pain
Every line smellin' fresher
my brake no dey work oh (ye ye)
I wo sari bebe to
Sweet boy
Omo ti biti tomato
Iwo three sixty like tornado
E dey body
No need the rondo
brkys:
I
And all that time that 187 was on my mind
Shot the man in cold blood
And I knew his momma saw the drive-by
Design, and there ain't no tv until you see
horrible forest
For a little lass snatched from Kansas
Snatched by tornado came forward
Poured a little drop of oil on his joints
She heard his voice time
Make your blood boil
Well I should say
Now friends, let me tell you what I mean
You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table
Pockets
it takes to make 'em gel
And in Washington I'm known by one and all
As the hostess with the mostest on the ball
They would go to Elsa Maxwell
to roll
The big screen hero
Has climbed his wayrung by rung
To become a King of Hollywood
Words & Music by Robert Barham
feel, like a motherless child)
Yo, I know a rich kid, who got hit for three bricks
Showin off his 850 plus, what a nice whip
Young blood guzzlin'
feel, like a motherless child)
Yo, I know a rich kid, who got hit for three bricks
Showin off his 850 plus, what a nice whip
Young blood guzzlin'
of genies and smoke me for 3 wishes
I'm feeling vicious
Sid
Vicious kinda vicious yeah
I'm sickened by existence
But a kiss from mama mistress keeps me fit
take a look at the bodies, they’re covered in blood
Shit this a real shame, let’s burry 'em in the mud
("What did you just say?")
Shoutout to N.W.A., If
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