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Bacon Sprouts (New south symphony)
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Your biys Finny, and poozy
meeshka productionz finhum meeshka pooz
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It's often better to hear rather than talk. Thus, I hear only myself when I talk.
Song Info
Charts
Peak #3,592
Peak in subgenre #1,933
Author
FinhuM/PooZ
Rights
2006
Uploaded
August 31, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB 128 kbps 3:45
Lyrics
I roll trew the streets in 80 4's n 80 three i pack heat like sun waves in my car seat no nigga messes with my bing bling i have shagadelick colors in my kitchen sink Bucket seats n candy paint got that drank i roll to the theathers n smoke crank if u put on my bling u will be a hunchback so heavy that i rock socks in the dark my computer got its own tutor im so pimp in the back of my 1934 impala got gimps my spinners look like wind mills with ill spills rings r circles like huricanes with ill chills tints so --------------------------- Born killa Toilet spinna, rima ona 83 lexus I'm grimey like muck, stuck in caddy texus bill washington, toilet champ of micy d's got the drill like dradle, baby please I hold the raw meat crown, fuckable crow duck swamps is the place to blow Ridin ima die 1 day without my glocky crooked cops shot me, jaw them like im rocky My condom fits on balls, cuz good stretch all toes are drenched, tlakin with a bench I'm walkin with a kane , switchin brothers titty I own shit like diddy, im out like electricity ------------------------------------------ Well it's big Finhum now, baby, Mr. Woodgrain With diamonds up against them balling hood mayn And I'm smoking on some good mayn, the color clear got wooden rats takein it all in the rear Chrome, looking more classy than the Transco Tower Car drippin' candy paint like it just came out the shower Pull up on your side in the turning lane Pop my trunk, break you off, chunk a deuce, and I'm Cadillac mayn Little swang to the left, big swang to the right My plates scraping and I'm sliding the pipe, it's super tight So don't try to knock us baby, don't try to hate That's how we do it in that Lone star state; --------------------------------------------------------- H-Town is the place, and you better respect it Where G's get dissected, my corner's infected Teflon bullet blockers, keep chest protected Bitch niggas get crushed on, they vest neglected These streets is hectic, I'm on top of my game Niggas ain't waterproof, and I'm about to rain Verbal cocaine, now they calling me cheap These gats I pack crack hats, to settle the beef I roll with big heaters, chrome body deleters They turn packs of jackers, into sizzling fajitas All bugs and mesquitos, get hit with the swallow Take it from me, big boss in DADA, ------------------------------------------------- On the real G's, flex with us We sending cooked up compressed, to broke down to dust What good is a pie, if you can't eat the crust And divide that motherfucker, between each of us See a nigga like me, I'ma feed the fam And don't give a damn, if it's green eggs and ham Bitch niggas get slammed, trying to take what's mine I'm the nigga with the iron in front, aimed at your blind I'm crawling similar to an ant cuz I'm low to the earth People's feelings get hurt when they rats get hurt Me and Slim we ain't tripping I'm finger flipping and syrup sipping Like do or die I'm po' pimping Car stop rims keep spinnin I stay crane hanging like my brain aping pian waiting for ape warming, Shard barking Ground sipping, Sound ripping around methane tylonal anal drity injesting ear crakiss fart waxing. .
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