a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de super sic wit it - mistah f.a.b.

[verse 1: turf talk]
i pull a heater, mayne, never follow a leader, mayne
even though we try, it’s hard to legal, mayne
put up or shut up, my loot up, so w-ssup?
wha-wha-what would you do if i shot yo’ hood up?
either jail or smoke weed
i take the cuffs, that’s f-a-b, not fabolous
what it is? sick wid it, it is
the way this money look, i’ll be independent for years
it’s a gang of hood n-ggas eatin’ off this plate
so don’t come around here if you ain’t from this place (from this place)
hear me comin’ about a half a block
got a dent in my ceiling from doin’ the robot
catch all kind of mugs (kind of mugs) from all kind of thugs (kind of thugs)
they offer designer all kind of drugs (kind of drugs)
i’m married to the ave’
pistol under the battery, dope in the dash

[chorus: mistah f.a.b.]
thizz (woo), oh, it’s sick wit’ it
we is super sick wit’ it (woo)
scr-per, scr-per, full up with rippers
purple, purple, gone of the liquor
thizz (woo), it’s sick wit’ it
we is super sick wit’ it (yeah)
scr-per, scr-per, full up with rippers
purple, purple, gone of the liquor

[verse 2: mistah f.a.b.]
i don’t need no iron (why?), i’m already creased (oh)
f-a-b what they call me, 40 say mouthpiece
i do the dummy, r-t-rded, and ride the yellow bus
put the town on, don’t bother me, doin’ h-lla much
high speed in my car, call it a scr-per
pop my ps at your broad, cuff or i’ll take her
i only roll wit’ my folks, family, and next-of-kin
ride away with a half, i’m a baydestrian
hit the club, and i’m mad ’cause they won’t let us in
now i’m about to go bad like drunk mexicans
you know a cent to a sumo and i be holding weight
got love for the east coast, but this is golden gate
i’m from the bay and we p-i, no surf talk
since i was knee-high to beehives i knew turf talk
(yee) t-h-i-z-z
droop-e you too hard, you need to be easy (whoa)

[verse 3: e-40]
ka-ka-ka-ka-ka, it’s real ugly
sks and aks in my city
not the pretty aks that go, “skee-skee”
but the ugly aks that go stoopy
it really doesn’t matter, major fixture or a factor
walk up on your -ss, let you have it in the bladder
it’s all about the money and the crevice and the fame
the rose gold chains, jewels and earrings
perkin’, drinking whiskey sour
in my suburban, droppin’ off yowder
tryna place my bid, tryna get at a broad
spit my l-r-ps in the fairfield mall
you can find me in the party gettin’ twisted and spliffted
see me in the club and i’m double fisted
higher than the statue of liberty, extra tipsy
playing possum, acting like i’m dizzy (biatch!)

- mistah f a b

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS