|
|
|
- 392,601 paroles
- 24,313 artistes
- 5 Millions de MP3
|
|
|
Les paroles de Abandon Ship(feat. Rampage the Last Boy Scout
| | | Artiste: | BUSTA RHYMES |
| | Album: | Miscellaneous | | Titre: | Abandon Ship(feat. Rampage the Last Boy Scout | | | | Date d'ajout: | 18/10/2007 | | Vues: | 56 fois | | | | Paroles: | [Busta Rhymes]
UHHHH!! You don't know what we doin right here!
[Intro/Chorus One:
repeat 2X]
One two three we gon' turn it out
And make you rock to the beat and then
scream and shout
We gonna hit you with the shit we got here
We gonna blow your miiiinnnd
(blow your miiiinnnd)
Keep it movin like this, keep it movin like that
If I die, I'ma only
come back
Yo, I'm saying if you think that you can step to me wrong
Don't even waste your
tiiiimmme (waste your tiiiimmme)
[Chorus Two:]
You niggaz talk shit then
abandon ship
Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship
Niggaz talk shit, then they abandon
ship
Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship
[Verse One: Rampage the Last Boy Scout,
Busta Rhymes]
I 8Off like the Assassin, now I'm blastin I'm takin over
Stick you for
your blue Range Rover
I told ya, Rampage a real live soldier
Been in the game, sinc the
age of thirteen
A microphone fiend, so I'm goin to see my P.O.
It's August the 1st, so I
guess I'm a Leo
My P.O., look like Vanessa Del Rio
She pulled my rap sheet, just like, Neo
Geo
Hahahaaa! I always roam through the forest
Just like a brontosaurus, born in
the month of May
so my sign is Taurus, kick you in your face
like my fuckin name was Chuck
Norris, make you sing my chorus
Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus
You remain
nameless, my victory remains flawless
Acting like you wild, but I know you really harmless
While your time is coming, I make the fat shit regardless
Many niggaz wanna know when the
Ramp return
Yo I'm gettin phone calls from that nigga Howard Stern
He wants to know about
my Flip Mode click
The way we get down and BUST NIGGAZ SHIT
LP after LP, we make G's
I run up in your ganks den take you for your keys
I'm not lying or joking, you get broken
Dead in Flatbush, back to Roanoake and...
People always askin me, how your shit be
sellin
For makin shit guaranteed to bust your fuckin melon
Police throwed me up on charges
like I was a felon
There was no tellin, when I was strikin had you swellin
Cruisin in my
Lands, watch the police how they be gellin
Lock you up for days and got a nigga ass
smellin
Yo FUCK THAT! You best believe there ain't no time for dwellin
If you ain't makin
noise you need to kill the fuckin yellin
[Chorus One]
[Chorus Two]
[Verse
Two: Rampage, Busta]
Yo, yo, yo I run up in your set like a New York city...
I can't
slip, I beat you down with my vice grip
Your lost, that means you way off course
No
remorse, I'm gettin five in The Source
I be saddleback biting motherfuckers like a
horse
Turn and toss, niggaz all up in my applesauce
Watch me reinforce, my shit feel good
like intercourse
Ever since I was a shorty rockin Hugo Boss
Aiyyo bust it Bust (why)
you just made my day
If you didn't put me on I'd be locked like O.J.
Now I'm writin rhymes
hittin shorties everyday
In the full runnin drinkin ice Tanqueray
I don't eat pork I take
a fish fellet
Now I'm knockin out niggaz from .. to .. touche!
Now I'm goin back around
the way
I'm rippin shit, like my name was Marvin Gaye
Yo, now I'm back with more
Bionic like my name was Colt Seavers
Got you niggaz open like a bunch of wide receivers
Time is on the meter, go clean your act up in the cleaners
Chickenhead, give me some of your
chicken fajitas
Yo I beg your pardon, I write my rhymes way past the margins
Squeeze the
Charmin, peace to one million men marchin
When you talk shit you really don't know what you
startin
Now your shit is done like a fuckin empty milk carton
It's on for the
nine-six, mad shows at the Ritz
Now we got you open like Fixx
Stickin to your stomach like
Quaker Oat Grits
Fisherman hat with my brand new kicks
On the low, I still rock my
Girbauds
See the show, I got my nickel plated fo'-fo'
All my rough niggaz open the
do'
Cause Boy Scout brings the ruckus and I'm still hardco'
Yo, when I walk streets
you know my blade's a little sharper
Fuck Peter Parker, I cross you like a magic marker
Everytime I hit I always hit a little harder
Blazing to the point where niggaz look a little
darker
Catching suntans from my music, fans understand
Making fat shit, I always love to
lend a helping hand
Organized rhyme unit like the Poison Clan
While your ride is busted, I
be your luxury Sedan
Number one nigga in the chain of command
Breakin fool in school like
my nigga Geechie Dan
Aiyyyyyo, I see intruders on my scan
Singin at your funeral like
Bobby Bluebland
[Chorus One] | | | |
 del.icio.us
 Digg
 Facebook
|
|
Les paroles de l'artiste: BUSTA RHYMES
|
| Télécharger gratuitement les mp3 de BUSTA RHYMES
|
|
|
