Three Stooges (B Town Brigade diss)

UGS

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UGS- Three Stooges (B Town Brigade diss)

UGS

FU, PG, DrankO, Fizzle, Ed-Oze, PeGs, Gopps...

FU- Artist/Producer In Development By DrAnKo... PG- Artist/Producer...Fundamentalness Will Fuck Your Mental Bitch... DrAnKo- Artist/Producer...Prey On The Weak (And Everyone Else Is Weak) So You Will Be Preyed On... PeGs- Skit Killa/Reggae Artist... Fizzle- Skit Killa/Dont Rap... Ed-Oze- Skit Killa/Dont Rap... Gopps- Skit Killa/Open Candy Wrappers...

Song Info

Genre

Hip-Hop • Hardcore Rap

Charts

Peak #1,579

Peak in subgenre #259

Author

UGS

Rights

UGS

Uploaded

March 11, 2003

Track Files

MP3

MP3 3.3 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00

Lyrics

FU-

b town bridgade rappers get in shape
start running
like u been in shape
first come reality
then its faith
drive get take out
like you rent a tape
teach you to respect me
like I educate
smacked back and forth
like a tennis game
what u asking for
u said it lame
restructure your
sentencing
you all bitches and snakes
shed your skin
so i can see
if youre men within
or just acting 
menaces
children with an
innocence
dreams of ice is
in the fridge
vanish gentiles
let the sinners live
hush puppys
know where the kennels is
see darkness
when i stab yuh eyes
with two Guinness's
no contact
of where yuh lenses is
extract more wisdom
than dentists
you cant read what
my credit says
but i prey on 
predators
watch you
shed a tear
put yuh hands together
beg in fear
matter fact leave outside
get in here
B town battyboys
I said it clear

chorus-

Dazed
dazed frozen and stunned
kaz the bitch
throws a tantrum
knowledge shot himself
holding a gun
three stooges better be
joking and run

PG-

i’ll hit you wit knowledge and leave you dazed/
you gotta lock me up,
but my rage prolly would of seep thru cage/
to beat you fakes
i don’t need two gauges/
but my lyrical bullet would
eat two pages/
i bet yall upload the shit,
thru ya kazaa program/
i bet yall pump so much dick,
thru dat kaz’ers hole and/
cum on his lips/
come on it’s just/
stupid, the way you kids, rap,
is like three year olds,
putting rum on their drinks/
disgusting like, what’s in,
this mans mind wit monkeys,
wanting to rub on their tits/
drunk or their blitz/
it doesn’t matter/
these fuckin’ rapper/
stunk like raptors/
the three of them, like faggoteers,
runnin’ backwards/

chorus-

FU-

yuh bones be cracked from
heavy bullets 
we packed on
while yuh hand
do a lonely action
yuh man say
breathe breathe
like he toni braxton
whats that
only gas on
stove leave yuh ass gon
yall steaming
but not deep with passion
were amateurs
will be yuh last song
compared to yall
a females grasp strong
fucked by a virus
when the emails passed on

PG-

damage you,
send ya to the hospital,
doctors won’t,
be able to stop me when i
hit you wit ya cast on/
not even a large obstacle/
the only thing yall could do is puff
on weed an a hard cock an bull/
i’ma non stopping hip hop god dats full/
i had enuff
wit these faggot, thugs
wannabe’s actin’ up/
skills? they wish they had this stuff/
my name is PG/
an my aim is easy/
clarifying dat Brampton sucks!!/

FU & PG- Chorus-

FU-

picturin' plasma pictures
of plastic toy figures
blast these small niggers
five nine,
but i'm a tall winner
downsize yall
remove ya head like a doll figure
head and body seperated
picked up by the coroner
never say fuck you
wit my long finger
let my index
press the issue
and talk trigger
let me end this

(gun shots)
...
(more gun shots)

FU-

feel the bullets lost in ya

(end)

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