Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Contemporary Man, artist - Action Bronson. Album song Blue Chips 1 & 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.04.2015
Record label: ABC
Song language: English
Contemporary Man |
Get it together Justin, got to get it together fam |
Let’s Go |
Yeah, fuck the back talk |
Save all that pussy shit for the cat walk |
Now write your name 100 times on the blackboard |
Just a white man excelling in a Black sport, like I’m Pistol Pete |
You already know you a goner when I kiss your cheek |
Lift your feet, like when your sister sweeps |
Fine dining, drink water out the crystal creek |
Straight from Queens rocking leathers like I’m Mr. Cheeks |
(Uhhhh, fly shit |
Grown Man shit |
Do it one more time, fuck it |
I’m good to go) |
Yo, I’m a wild freak, hit shorty where the child sleep |
While her mother make soup with the cow feet |
Shoulder pads and a leather, Beau Brummell |
Hopping out the limo at the old Tunnel |
Fuck sex on the beach, I want head in the streets |
Spread bed on the feet |
Lead on your cheek, the cadillac from 73 |
Aqua marine with a popular fiend, uhh |
Big Bird, Farrington alumnus |
Mouth like a pussy, she gummed it |
You see me in the green velour, facial conquistador |
Then I order up a feast for four |
If you see me in a leather, know it’s reaching the floor |
Linen flapping in the wind cause of the breezy shore, yeah |
Spinal tap, you spitting gynecology rap |
Eat your pussy with a plastic bag, covering that |
Brothers will clap leave you hovered or jacked |
If there’s chicken in the building, know I’m smothering that |
This tool I got will loosen up your stool a lot |
Near the pee pee will make you poo-poo a lot |
In the Z3 bumping U2 |
(Yo this Big Motherfucking Body, bitch) |
Ginger ale laying in a Knicks cup |
Pay thirty dollars for a dick suck |
Pay a hundred dollars for the joints I rolled |
Oyster bowls chilling in the cloisters |
I love Black girls boisterous |
Shorty’s on the arm like a koi fish |
On a Herbie White dude with the yellow fever |
Yellow sneakers, see through yellow beeper |
(Feel the beat…) |
When our eyes first met was like the fourth day in July |
When you kissed my lips, I knew one day you’d be mine |
Watch my shorty take a shower, I want the good loving |
Six ducks in a wood burning oven |
Georgia Southern, her alma mater |
She raised out in Queens, but moved out to Colorado |
Looney Tunes, Taz on the shirt |
Fuck swag, got pizzazz |
Two jags, Cincinnati Zubaz |
Du rag, Bay Terrace pool pass |
Talked to Skip, schooled me on the ponies |
Next year catch me posing at the Tonys |
Folding paper wilding at the OTB |
Grow the money like a Cocha tree |
American flags hang on walls that hide money |
Put my arm through the Picasso |
Kept a fortress, crib got the Tex-Mex motif, wolves howling |
Two stallions pull the buggy, Clydesdale |
Crack the Bud, guzzle, humidors |
Uncle Moozy with the Mitsubishi |
Uncle Jimmy with the funny money flossing out in AC |
Randy Quaid with the turtleneck |
Erma with the jungle juice, man feet |
Beamer with the tan seats, |
Smack the taco out your mouth, green couch |