Lyrics:
his head completely off
I've lived in this town for thirty years
And to no-one I am a stranger
And I put new bullets in my gun
Chamber upon chamber
And if you wanna buy a crib, they give you thirty years (thirty years)
Me against the world, pistol in your clutch (in your clutch)
They like to call it
the middle of the dream in walks
Your grandma Tzietl, may she rest in peace
Grandma Tzietl, how did she look?
For a woman who's been dead for thirty years
the sound-a night gone on thirty years long
Thousands of wounded hearts bleed before the fighting starts
Out of hiding men come surrendering disposable income
Well, I'm three parts tiger and one part snake,
I'll ball you to sleep and I'll bite you awake
And I'm so good that I don't have to brag.
I need
of Malverde
I pissed away my life for years
Look I'm now thirty
Product of pistoleers, rocking a foul jersey
Holding my side together
Chopping up perico flakes
sacrifice her fam, shift them niggas
To Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known Tone
A Wally
sacrifice her
Fam shift them niggas to Queens
Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone
Regulate with well known Tone
A Wally kingpin who
thirty-five years overdue. And you know the funny thing, all these I.O.U's are owed to one person and I kinda felt like that maybe now would be a pretty good
Ah-ah, I never saw so many people tonight
I mean y'all all got it crowded up in here and that's good
I'm glad that y'all givin' it up for him,
ct ten years old inside the house,
c fight broke out with wife and spouse.
I heard my dad hit through the wall,
He left our home about that fall.
talkin' 'bout cheddar
Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen
Four swordsmen, from the land of the lost
Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt
what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck
Me? I ain't even in my prime
When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines
Catch me
a billion by thirty-six
Top of the year? I was broke (cash out)
Done been had lint in my pocket
Now I'm plugged like a socket
Bankrolls in my pocket
on, Gucci on, Gucci on, Gucci on, Gucci on, Gucci on
Told me to go by house, I'd Rather go and buy a necklace
Gucci on, Gucci on, Gucci on, Gucci on,
man, it just kept out
Almost every day by the bay now
Me and Yaygo up the hill, we at G's house
We was zoomin' down the boulevard, Jay Loud
Stay away,
As for me and my house, I'm not bothering by what man may say,
When 5 years none of our people have died, and there's never been a casket rolled through
Every fucking day (3) , everyday niggas
Look around niggas (3)
What you gon' to do 'bout it nigga? (3)
What you gotta say 'bout it nigga? (3)
That's
Thirty three hunnit one fit
Thirty three racks one flip
Serve it to my white boy Rick
Swervin up the 696
Niggaz be on 69 shit
I'm just tryna get mine
Laughs
Beats by Jhay yeah
Aye yo
Best Rapper in Africa yeah I’m really popping
Niggas really asking why I be so cocky
You should ask your sister why
Goodwill loves me Macklemore than you
I've got flat screen TVs, with skate videos on repeat
All the latest CDs, mp3s, and Beats by Dre
Thank you very
wings I neatly aimed
Blew his head completely off
I've lived in this town for thirty years
To no-one I am a stranger
And I put new bullets in my
crotch alcoholic chick
If I remember correctly I think
Her dad was into politics
After school we'd go to Popeye's chicken
I would get a 3 piece combo
With
Stick in pins killing me slowly
To the President you say I'm a welfare fraud
you motherfucking right! Let's burn this dark house white!
Discuss these thirty three years by crowded house Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In