letra de the chronic - ☆lukky☆
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[intro]
before your funeral
and your coffin lid is closed
before you are buried
and your flesh turns cold
before you are covered with the last shovels of dirt
be sure you are really dead
[verse 1]
get the f-ck up out my way
get the f-ck up out my motherf-ckin’ way
get the f-ck up out my face
i don’t like you motherf-ckers anyway
now i’m f-ckin’ up my pay
now i’m gettin’ lots of money every day
catchin’ p-ssy like a fade
catch a youngin’, getting hundreds what i say
got the bible on thе dash, boutta smoke it till it’s ash
now my rivals gettin’ mad, ’cause thеy open to the fact
i might do this sh-t for real, spend a thousand on a seal
make a hunnid f-ckin’ mil, now i pull up and i peel, skrrt
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