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Search results for 'tennis club by big bang' Page #6

Yee yee! We've found 427 lyrics and 197 artists matching tennis club by big bang.

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the striker bang that left corner
If I pop out you know that she foreign
What the fuck damn this shit got me snoring
You got drip okay nigga I'm pouring
You
I heard he telling we giving him stitches
These messy bitches tryna be all in my business
If you send one we send it back like its tennis
I'm still
hating get you and yo buddy touched
Tennis chains on them diamonds they double dutch
Im movin slow been stuffin my double cup 
Still about business
(Whats that)
[Psycho Les]
Some incredible shit, some incredible shit uhh
Twist that baby up in here

[Armaretta]
'Ey yo Big Psych

[Psycho
noodles
In the eight by eight with a loser
Talkin' 'bout what he had and he
Got and he used to
Nigga, yeah right, lil' nigga, get right
Fuck whose big
know they gon' fuck whoever poppin
When we hit the club, you know it gon' flood, lil' bitch might as well be a weather doppler

If I catch him down bad,
Churn up the grits, can't never slip
Bang on the hip, burst from the whip, drive-by shooter
Autopilot, when I bye-bye losers
Look mama, no hands, look
to clubs, I never chase a bitch (bitch)
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress, some of y'all call it chocolate
Return
to clubs, I never chase a bitch (bitch)
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress, some of y'all call it chocolate
Return
Davis Absolute the Body

You see they judge me by the
Words I won't exchange with dummies
I would never give the pearls to swine
Now they try to take
smoked 
Life trap get crossed up by them dog hoes 
Like shit get masked out over dog hoes 
Really doe 
Bullet holes be so big 
Innocent bystanders get
Unemployed, on Skid Row, we had no toys for kids
We would bang our thumbs, gunshots, they run
We would bang on drums made from garbage cans
Even garbageman
to clubs, I never chase a bitch (beitch)
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress, some of y'all call it
Chocolate

Return
look
All gathered around, bounce to the funk
Got the whole club stink with
The aroma of the skunk
Now, bang it out the trunk, nigga
Ain't nothing change
game and we got it
No Limit and Dogg Pound, we rowdy, get em' up
We bang bang

[Snoop]
On this music that we make ho
In the cars, the clubs
In the club head bang
When they playing my song
And I'm trying to get paid
Pull up in a Wraith
Then I hop up on stage
Get it popping in the H
Shawty
Yeah, I'm just gon' say
Cause these some nice-ass tennis shoes
What the, what the fuck is them, man?
Hold up, what's their name?
Oh, I know, these
Mushrooms in the blunt I'm blowing billie Kimber by the ounce 
Fuck going to the club In rater kick it at the house 
cnd keep it peaceful with my people
on my lap 
One on the side
We bust out the trap
Me and some bitches in the club with a bag, like what you wanna do 
Bust a move, hey
Up in my sweats 
I
to me like commissary
All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie
Done did it, come widdit
Get yo' head splitted
Or get your neck slitted, admit it
You
I come from Bed-Stuy
Where niggas either do or they gon' die
Gotta keep the ratchet close by
Someone murdered, nobody seen, nobody heard it
Just
Chop off the top and let that thing play,
Speakers gon' rock and bop and then bang..

Shorty bad and she dm'ed me
Wanna go for a drive like the DMV
in their cells
When you hear me, bang your doors (bang your doors)
Niggas moving chatty, someone tell them that I'm scatty
Bro, I'll pull up
to clubs; I never chase a bitch (bitch)
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress, some of y'all call it chocolate
Return

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