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Forever united, we walkin this planet of gasses True to all my niggas till my life span passes With the (shhh) sound of the pyro camp You's a fool if you try to get the Psycho amped We could stomp, give it a loud clap Champ chomp the competition, full back tackle Ya quaterback We tight like ten virgins in a Porsche Double parked car, Miagi's wax on technique Couldn't block ours Like dark scars, my fam stays on my skin Beginning to never end There's many different ways I'ma win My brain jiggle in pickled jars Brooknam phenomenan, Worf A lush in bars, black fingers splittin cigars Shittin in bars with a crazed smell Lord praise Swel! 'Cause time is 11: 34 when I'ma raise hell And truly I'll react and you will get Attacked world-wide My crew is on the map, yo Q! You got my back? No question, like, like. The Roots Without their drummer You step up in a relay, son you got ya'self a runner Targeting the government, you got ya'self a gunner We breakin through the surface 'cause we Tunneled through the under In the club, we got it locked We, WOOOOH! Only if we should, then we rock We, WOOOOH! Rollin through ya hood or ya block We, WOOOOH! Louder! WOOOOH! Prouder! WOOOOH! Remain calm, ladies on line because we gettin Our game on, and anybody breakin up The hustle and they gone Like Schwarzenegger biceps, the family stay strong Nothin you can say wrong, we righteous Speak the same slang Microphone spit unite us, love to all the fam And give a fuck who don't like us We thorn coated our hearts, so I rock Invisible horns Sworn heat raised deceased, got niggas screaming "Ya dead wrong!" Snatch the hoochies ice She's twice the chicken I am You ain't a playa, trade ya foodstamps Tell ya baby dad to buy 'em Rollin with us, ain't no need to keep a low profile We could all go wild and keep the po-po out We can liven up the party, drink all up the Bacardi Dance and move ya bodies with hotties to Ladi-dadi +We don't cause trouble+, 'less you want the bubble Popped double, what you gonna drop? Zepplin kid We gonna rock, Arsonists fam, global relatives Connecting world-wide, thanks for pyromaniacs Investin Somebody gonna fry in here tonight! Too many niggas that like to fight, Hang tight and that ain't right! "I bet you made that up by yourself"
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Anthony Quiles Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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