Lyrics:
Mm hmm
(chitlins,)
That's good
(candy sweet potatoes,)
That's good, that's enough
(black..black-eyed peas, grits,)
Hey, wait.. wait..
they see me on a pedastal
Nibblin' on my jock, like my big, ol' black tool is edible
Tellin' you man these heifers now days is incredible
Dishin' them
lately she distracting me,
Wondering if I'm the best, Well-I-am, no Black Eyed Peas,
Girls wanna f-ck your n-ggas, guy don't wanna be you,
Lining up around
Matter chants
And screams
Of say their names
Which will soon
Be washed over
By the next twerk video
Gone viral
Ten minutes
It would take
For my
Sheepshead Bay, move to strong LI
But my self inner-self breaks North
And like Moses I'm judged by the cloth
Of my heritage who will bring forth the people
In
trees from these black seeds
This is cornbread
And black-eyed peas
This is fish fry
And my fly steez
Don't drip grease on my fire
Please
I got 16
12 Times
denial, But on the Low you like my style
Im young black and Im paid
this money that I make
How the hell you going to hate, How the hell you going
And a sign reading 'Take one!' If anyone asks you what the hell
Your doing, give them a button that says 'I asked about the peas!'"
He's become my best
Black Eyed Peas
Girls wanna fuck your niggas
Niggas gotta wanna be you
Lining up around the block so that they can get to see you
I feel like I find
"Stalkin', walkin' in my big black boots"
"Stalkin', walkin' in my big black boots"
God damn, another fuckin' payback with a twist
Faudrait qu'j'me coupe les doigts
On a l'flow tellement fou
Qu'il pourrait braquer c'flic
FM Crew, Black M, Gims
Te trompe pas c'est pas Black Eyed Peas
as letra
Mas vida loka parte 2 trazia uma força uma paz
Nessa fase curtia e ainda curto pra caralho
Cidinho e Doca, 50 cent e Black eyed peas Depois tive
just said
my mother she's a honkey
my dad's kentucky fried
i don't know what the hell i'm on
so 1, 2...1, 2, 3 slam!!!
back at home it's black eyed peas
black
Well nah I aint Mack though I get L's more with less sales
Rewind it back the more "L" is get sales
Style the track for the majority who buy it
worse, Buckshot and Ace
In the land of the waste, kickin' you in your face
We be doin' it up Crooklyn style
What does it take to get you wild?
My
until you're too black
Now you an outcast, slap that on three stacks
I can't even celebrate my heritage without some people getting mad and mixing up my
to decide
That Earl had to die, goodbye Earl
Those black-eyed peas, they tasted alright to me, Earl
You're feelin' weak? Why don't you lay down
That's not how we do it
You know I'm the Scronx and I keep it on the down low
Making music doesn't make much cash flow
I medicate with my beats,
to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her
vegetables
Spinach, eggplant, dry bean
Artichoke, cabbage, green pea
Celery, parsley, black eyed pea
All of them are very very delicious
out gyal see me lawd jesas peas
Cah me eva stay up pon mi Q's and P's
Me have style like dem ya, melodies like these
Brik pon brik money trees like
Batman with his fist, shut up, get of my Dick
I'm sending all these peas you can call it the Gotham clique
I don't care bout your friends, they'll
I wake up
Black eyed
With broken teeth, it's all I know
I count my deaths, cut into skin
I feel no pain and I'm alone
Another day I'm still alive
talkin' that shit, I'm puttin' these funky niggas on the house
Mystic Styles in my head as I smoke on a blunt
Yo Crunchy Black, the demon's child has
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