Lyrics:
Drive-by eggings, plaguing LA
"Yo, you just got my little cousin, ese"
Sometimes hard-boiled, sometimes runny (Ray)
Comes from a chicken, not a bunny,
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
My momma told me I wasn't shit, I so believed it
My anger got the best of me quick, guess I
fotto con questi non-none of these bitches
When I'm in public ain't taking no pictures
I got my Nonna up in the kitchen, making la pasta ready by dinner
have to ask why
Now...
(Chorus 1)
(Chorus 2)
la la, la la, laaaa, la la, la la, la la, laa laa, la la, laaaa
Now all my thug muthafuckas say...
la la
challenging ourselves to
Better than we are white folks
Instead of driving-by using the "N" word
They will say:
(Look! Look at them! Oh! my God!
They're
n****'s stomping in my chucks
See I make it rain, dear, cause I'm all by my bucks
Use the butt up in the front, d-ck up in her c***
And I put her in her
boys for the corner
Passer-by want to collect her number
Ooo' my baby get yawa
Baby fish weh dey like shawarma
Ghetto girl weh dey form lekki
Passer-by
side you got to know
Keep a calico by the bedside, this what I'm all about
Now which one of y'all motherfuckers shot up my momma's house?
It
Giù le mani e prendo la mia fetta
è il mio io che mi distingue con la pressione che mi spinge
L'elite della mia cerchia si restringe
Persa l'innocenza
Shooting shit for fun
Evergreen came from the fucking slums
Mother fuckers they talk they really don't want none
12 gauge by my fucking side
Chromed out
Shooting shit for fun
Evergreen came from the fucking slums
Mother fuckers they talk they really don't want none
12 gauge by my fucking side
Chromed out
the Charger
Passing Demon
Dodge charge ya
I`m a rider, bag full of drugs yeah yeah
Ready to run yeah
La Ferrari, Rosso Corsa
My shit is private
Crib by
At a glance, it may seem romantic
My beautiful island of enchantment
Subjected to all these atrocities
Imposed by U.S. philosophies
When I trace my
Mrs. E. Roosevelt never heard me shoot my gun
La, la, la
Mrs. E. Roosevelt didn't even knew I owned one
La, la, la
Somewhere between the cobblestone
One eight seven on my enemies
Hold a muthafucking glock put it in a muthafuckas face
Si no se la lleva la verga
Hasta la fecha yo sigo levando
Ohh, way
Woah
(La Musica de Harry Fraud)
I'm legendary
And nigga when I'm gone you're gonna see my name in bronze
I'm legendary
And tomorrow
finished talkin 'bout it
Till ya top gone nigga
Dissin my crew you catch hot ones
I'm hot son
Yo that's why I carry hot guns i'm on a
Beach in LA fuckin' fly
yeah)
I'm from the trenches, they write with the FN (woo)
The guns are drawn, ain't doin' no sketches
Me and Ameen was preachin' the King
This dude
of MC the people venerate
Between New York, LA and Johannesburg is my mental state
But highway patrol pull me over cause my dealer plates
Watch my
Wouldn't thought then from that, I learned my lesson
And clean my act up and go straight to perfection
Uncle La got knocked the feds hit it with seven
the south, the deep south
Oh shit, my bad
Not even close huh
Nah hahaha
You aight
Ok
So you're like down by the border
Way down
Where the Meskins are at
Hell
got a gang of shit, styles guns
My Uzi weighs a motherfuckin' ton
Bucking down one, bucking down two
Bucking down your crew, motherfuck' you
Pigs
And whether through religion, or stopped by the cop
Shining his flash in my face, I'm bound to see the light
A few short words, and what do ya know?
Oh,
Tragically ironic (suckin' off each others gats and pistols)
I got more back issues than guns and ammo
'cause my uzi ways a ton
And I never let go
.jpg/300px-GNR_London_Stadium_2017_3_(cropped).jpg "Guns N' Roses")
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