whats chrakalackin, nackalackin, nigga watcha packin?
|
now i hate bitches widda passion
|
high model street fassion
|
i stay weeded with the beat bashin
|
talkin shit when im smashin
|
put ma rap down, profound ina virgin town
|
hit the (?mall) like the God, now im splurgin now
|
crack a rhyme, hard crimes in all 5 (?barrels)
|
its somthin like egypt n the pharo's
|
gimme the keys to ya' city, ima still pick the lock
|
and leave hella clues fo da cops
|
leave fingerprints on tha glock
|
leave ID on tha block
|
dawg did ya do it? no i did not
|
gun powder flour, nigga (?) towers
|
i love gummybears, sweet n sour
|
dawg its tha (?) lyrico, myrical spunge, bitch
|
shell toe adidas n airforce ones, bitch
|
smellin so cute in ma sean jean john suit
|
filmoe street, nigga bus' duce duce
|
its da fellony rhyme n a mellody crime, its heavy
|
ya cetch 4 raps right across ya belly
|
ya big homy, in vegas lika coleeonie
|
its all real, nota macaroni SIIN
|
imagine bullets bouncin off ya CHIIN
|
fo eva fuckin off your dirty grin, n den, yeeah
|
|
1984, i was on da plane dat was about ta soar
|
i was jus 14, about ta go down n see ma family
|
jus when the plane was about ta land, i saw dat ma cusin was da man
|
he gave me da formula, dat was ma summer in Florida
|
|
in 1984, i was on da plane dat was about ta soar
|
i was jus 14, about ta go down n see ma family
|
jus when da plane was about ta land, i saw dat ma cusin was da man
|
he gave me da formula, dat was ma summer in Florida
|
|
-----------------
|
Summer In Florida
|
| Andre Nickatina |
