Chain Reaction
Cuban Link lyrics
Cuban Link lyrics
"Up In Smoke Lyrics"
I Hate Everything About You Lyrics
Every time we lie awake After every hit we take Every feeling that I get But I haven't missed you yet Every room-mate kept awake By every silent scream we make All the feelings that I get But I still don't miss you yet Only when I start to think about it... chorus: I hate everything about you
Yo,.lyrical murda on wax, what!?
Still gettin high, puffin' that la,
Yeah, Terror Squad, Blunt Records,
Check this shit out,
Cuban Link.. wha..
Yo, i'm up in smoke,
Puffin' cho-co-la-te, ta-te queto
I rock my flow, and knock it out just like Jose Canseco
So take off like Delta, run for shelta
Theres no helper here, you felt of it
L be servin niggas like Mr. Belvadere
I twist an L, sip a beer here and there
Drink some liquor then pick a stripper that I can rip and tear, yeah
Come hear the sounds of a rookie fromt he boogie down
Used to be a shorty but guess whos givin nukkies now
So clown if you got the heart
Start some bullshit, it's your bid
A b
I pull triggas givin niggas hell, like I'm sittin,
Fake a move, punk, and i'll run you over like Walter Payton
Makin hits, my cliques, makin moola
Like Don Shula, nothin's coola
Than puffin on a phat blunt from Cu-ba
I smoke more blunts than a little bit,
What are you an idiot?
The more I smoke,
The smaller my phillie get
I smoke more blunts than a little bit,
What are you an idiot?
Wake up in the mornin, got me yearnin for herb!
Start the buddah session,
True confessions, spark the cu' up,
Cu' be where the supa-fly's, buddahfied,
Even in a suit n tie,
Cruisin though the 5 boroughs wit live thorough,
Broken Wave Lyrics
Beyond the broken waves, she walked the shore Thoughts diving down the ocean-floor... 'The ocean flows like life: just like life... Hope is not a thing that she inclines to take into confidence For another disappointment, there can be no recompense Like the vastness of the world, bad luck does not make sense Yet, in this disappointment, the
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Niggas that like to smoke they Hydro in front of 5-0,Every time we lie awake After every hit we take Every feeling that I get But I haven't missed you yet Every room-mate kept awake By every silent scream we make All the feelings that I get But I still don't miss you yet Only when I start to think about it... chorus: I hate everything about you
Yo,.lyrical murda on wax, what!?
Still gettin high, puffin' that la,
Yeah, Terror Squad, Blunt Records,
Check this shit out,
Cuban Link.. wha..
Yo, i'm up in smoke,
Puffin' cho-co-la-te, ta-te queto
I rock my flow, and knock it out just like Jose Canseco
So take off like Delta, run for shelta
Theres no helper here, you felt of it
L be servin niggas like Mr. Belvadere
I twist an L, sip a beer here and there
Drink some liquor then pick a stripper that I can rip and tear, yeah
Come hear the sounds of a rookie fromt he boogie down
Used to be a shorty but guess whos givin nukkies now
So clown if you got the heart
Start some bullshit, it's your bid
A b
First Your Money Lyrics
It's hard to find a reason To keep standing in the rain I owe it to my heart to try again Now I'm standing on the corner In a town that's hard to face 'Cause it feels like I'm drifting Through outer space So was it in, was it out Tell me what it's all about Problems that appear so tall Turn out to be so small When you
ullet through your skull from my full clipIt's hard to find a reason To keep standing in the rain I owe it to my heart to try again Now I'm standing on the corner In a town that's hard to face 'Cause it feels like I'm drifting Through outer space So was it in, was it out Tell me what it's all about Problems that appear so tall Turn out to be so small When you
I pull triggas givin niggas hell, like I'm sittin,
Fake a move, punk, and i'll run you over like Walter Payton
Makin hits, my cliques, makin moola
Like Don Shula, nothin's coola
Than puffin on a phat blunt from Cu-ba
I smoke more blunts than a little bit,
What are you an idiot?
The more I smoke,
The smaller my phillie get
I smoke more blunts than a little bit,
What are you an idiot?
Wake up in the mornin, got me yearnin for herb!
Start the buddah session,
True confessions, spark the cu' up,
Cu' be where the supa-fly's, buddahfied,
Even in a suit n tie,
Cruisin though the 5 boroughs wit live thorough,
Broken Wave Lyrics
Beyond the broken waves, she walked the shore Thoughts diving down the ocean-floor... 'The ocean flows like life: just like life... Hope is not a thing that she inclines to take into confidence For another disappointment, there can be no recompense Like the vastness of the world, bad luck does not make sense Yet, in this disappointment, the
Yo Manolo shoot that piece of chit, Chichi get the yayo,
While I pay Frank a visit, but the bisquit to his cuello,
Ey yo, this fuckin blunt's got me buggin,
I be thuggin it out, like Noreaga playin,
You aint sayin nothing, bustin rappers like adreneline,
Puttin venom in'em,
Put'em on stage, for minimum wage, to graves is where i send'em
Hem'em up like a party dress
Terror Squad is as hard as it gets
Rippin your heart out your chest
Spark the cess, chickenheads stressin the sex
Wanna jump up in the Lex, twin, when they see me wit the best
Twisted up the dutch, a little Tony's Touch
Let'em work the clutch while i lite the bliz up
Do You Like Me Like That? Lyrics
I got a story about D.C. to tell And I don't think you're going to like it very well It's about boys and girls, and the rich and the poor But what if no one can afford to live here anymore? Well I guess you can, 'cause you got a trust fund You're so comfortable, but you're the only one So I'm gonna turn it up and shake you down 'Cause your p
I got a story about D.C. to tell And I don't think you're going to like it very well It's about boys and girls, and the rich and the poor But what if no one can afford to live here anymore? Well I guess you can, 'cause you got a trust fund You're so comfortable, but you're the only one So I'm gonna turn it up and shake you down 'Cause your p
On a highway wit this big fucka
Gettin high like Chris Tucker on Friday, hit it my way
Like Frank Sinatra, lite up at the opera
When the cops come show the prescription from the docta
I puff cause I got ta'
This stuff from the rasta's
Get enough love in the Bronx, from Italians wit all the pasta
John Blazin, keep the tree's blazin
You think a lil weed gonna fuck with my cordination??
Wha wha..
Haha.. yeah..
Blunted for life.. Blunt Records,
Triple Seis,
Punisher,
Fat Ji-Doe,
Don Cartigina,
Fulla-clips, wha what,
Cuban Link'in it,
Artie's,.. yeah,
Wha wha.. real niggas..
Blunted.
Yea nigga.. this how we do.