РозыгрышТекст песни: C-Bo and Brother Lynch - Drunken Style
Drunken style nigga ... drunk style
Give me yo clothes, give me your gold
Give me all the money you owe right now
[Brother Lynch]
Don`t like to thank so I drank heavy
Dump slugs out the Chevy, livin armed and deadly
I`m takin chunks from punks who want funk
Treat em like 15`s put em in the trunk
I split his splines makin sure all my shits clean
Than seem like a wolverine with a gleam and a scheme gangsta ling
Out the window hit yo block corner everybody better duck
Runnin tires like the Daytona tuck you up it ain`t nuttin
Pushin buttons, warn smokin them bustas
... See I was just a baby when I first got Sicc
Hit the bracin lacin alchohol, I`m bout to feel they walls with syphilis dicks
Just get my kicks, tricks get chopped up like a cold cut
Heat em up, flops get rocked up like that coke stuff
I ain`t no jokester, prankster, real gangster
Shit from that nigga that brought you the Season of the Sicc
Admit that was my tightest shit besides this
Don`t get me wrong every song is a hit
Guess who made this?
Funk baid away you suckers ain`t payin right
You stayin tight, coolin up in zip locks every night
And my mama never fed me right
We was broke so - Oh he know me I ain`t no mutha fuckin chump
When it come to rippin up shit, zip locks, body bag, toe tags
I leave yo t-shirt sweaty any place, any time you ready
Drunken style nigga
So give me you clothes, give me yo gold
Give me all the money you owe right now [x 4]
Comin soon you wann hear more buy my shit, 2002
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Drunken style nigga ... drunk style
Give me yo clothes, give me your gold
Give me all the money you owe right now
[Brother Lynch]
Don`t like to thank so I drank heavy
Dump slugs out the Chevy, livin armed and deadly
I`m takin chunks from punks who want funk
Treat em like 15`s put em in the trunk
I split his splines makin sure all my shits clean
Than seem like a wolverine with a gleam and a scheme gangsta ling
Out the window hit yo block corner everybody better duck
Runnin tires like the Daytona tuck you up it ain`t nuttin
Pushin buttons, warn smokin them bustas
... See I was just a baby when I first got Sicc
Hit the bracin lacin alchohol, I`m bout to feel they walls with syphilis dicks
Just get my kicks, tricks get chopped up like a cold cut
Heat em up, flops get rocked up like that coke stuff
I ain`t no jokester, prankster, real gangster
Shit from that nigga that brought you the Season of the Sicc
Admit that was my tightest shit besides this
Don`t get me wrong every song is a hit
Guess who made this?
Funk baid away you suckers ain`t payin right
You stayin tight, coolin up in zip locks every night
And my mama never fed me right
We was broke so - Oh he know me I ain`t no mutha fuckin chump
When it come to rippin up shit, zip locks, body bag, toe tags
I leave yo t-shirt sweaty any place, any time you ready
Drunken style nigga
So give me you clothes, give me yo gold
Give me all the money you owe right now [x 4]
Comin soon you wann hear more buy my shit, 2002
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Еще тексты песен: C-Bo and Brother Lynch