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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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