album cover
B.R.E.E.Z.E
album cover
Skladba B.R.E.E.Z.E vyšla 28. září 2010 Smoked Out Records na albu Hurricane Floyd
28. září 2010
ŠtítekSmoked Out Records
JazykEnglish
BPM95
Melodičnost
Akustičnost
Valence
Tanečnost
Energie

Texty

Partna you thinkin' you bad, you chasin' somethin' I already had
I know what makes you mad, when she's callin' me papi
I licky licky 'til he sloppy, then she climbs on top me
She said your game is a hurt, your main Breez is a flirt
At the chicken fights I lift her skirt and let the cum squirt
Baby's toes was on the ceilin' while I was cuttin' and killin'
We was toung-kissin', fuckin' whores straight up be peelin'
Even though I wasn't trippin' off that E-pill
The boss that she gave me had me head over heels
She said "Do you miss me?", I said "It's been too long"
She said "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone"
Well it's the weekend, lock the doors baby we ain't leavin'
Licky licky sticky sticky creepin'
All up in the sheets late night freakin'
I dare you to fuck with me when I'm peakin'
I'll leave you cut up, swoll up, bruised and beaten
Because
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
I'm a gangsta ****, what? Breez man delivery
Sittin' on spinners behind tinters, chuckin' purple trees
In the summer Breezies call my number
I'm gettin' boss in a H2 Hummer
With my mouth full of rocks and my pockets full with them stunners
I do my rounds, hit the towns, and I'm back to the stack
I'm dumpin' on that Hypnotic and that Cognac
Incredible hard to set these off, I'm always watchin' my back
In the West when I ride 'cause I'm thuggin' like that
I act a fool with my tool, you don't wanna see that
I don't even wanna be here, I wish Jesus would take me back
Fear is stronger than love in this land of hell
I'm gettin' sick to my stomach, I'm tired of livin' in hell
All my homies gettin' shipped away, boxed off and sent to jail
Lord Breez say a prayer for us young black males
I got a baby on the way, I can't be sittin' in jail
But the hustle never stops, I'm addicted to slangin' rocks
Get you cooked up, whipped down, cut, then re-copped
I'm in the shady eighties, them mirrors are all smudged
Like mirror tint, the smoke's got it covered, it's nothin'
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
This is the take off, I guess the face off
Don't get erased off, I take your mouth off
And get you fucked off, and hit with the sawed off
To make you limp off, you shouldn't have pissed a **** off
It's Mr. Fun Fun Fun, **** I ain't the one
I go upside your head and have your ass speakin' in tongues
Y'all some boosie ass **** and your rhymes are jokes
We ain't never been true partna, homie, friends, or folks
I saw your asses on the block, I knew your asses was knots
Next time you stroll through you gettin' a cheese made rock
I'm a skinny little ****, wearin' 175
But I can trigga and fly, true friend, not a friend
Never eye to eye, in the back of they minds is where my homicide lies
I bet them motherfuckers will have a party if I die
They'll be tryin' to trigga and fly, but why?
You let this rap mislead ya, but now I gots to bleed ya
I give two fucks, you bit the hands that feed ya
I ain't got nothin' to lose, I bust you **** out your shoes
From the 912, to the 510, to the 714, I got family galore
So be careful where you go, speakin' bad on my name bro
'Cause you might get hit (hit), you might get got (got)
And if you act a fool then you might get shot (shot)
BLAOW! Motherfuckers, right in your neck
For talkin' down on the Breez and disrespectin' the West
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Smashin' down your block, bitch call the cops
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Vibratin' your house, bitch close your mouth
It's the B-R-double-E-Z-E
Written by: Steven L Pontiflet
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out􀆄 copy􀐅􀋲

Loading...