Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Double Breasted, 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
Double Breasted |
Hey yo, our lungs are filled with the purple from the jungle |
Never fumble, got the work right by the grundle |
Twin dick sucks for me and my son |
That’s before he was 3 smoking weed in a blunt |
Straight from flushin where the birds are hanging dead in the window |
Scent of garbage make me sick getting head in the rental |
Got the lamb rack pan, roasted, laced with |
Little yogurt dapped and drizzled might be a winner |
Come and see me, known the hand that makes the fettucini |
Holler make the baklava getting paper bashkala |
La Majun sour smoking savage out of sarasota |
Macho man, the taco stand is where the hook is kept |
30 dollars get you pussycat, right in the kitchen where they cooking at |
, architecture art deco, twist the pussy like a soft pretzel |
I’m such a special guy, I’d rather die then never testify |
You soon to see me at the party with a vest and tie. |
Shorts, that’s my steez when I’m stepping |
Strollin down the streets like the westerns |
Double weapons, at my size and preparing for the showdown |
Spinning like a wild maneuver, Whilin' at them hold down |
Hold ground, stand firm, you little sissies got a chance |
Now it’s time to give them man burn |
Yo, he try to fuck with Bronsollini it’s a crucial calling |
Guaranteed you gonna loose just like the Brooklyn brawler |
Mister wonderful in shorts, cortex, gortex |
The bottom of the feet in case the floor wet |
Flow was sended here crafted on the mother earth |
Kinda strange things been funny since my brother’s birth |
Shaking hands, the system money connect |
Blow a ransom on a yacht, have a seed in Quebec |
Respect my, exquisite mistique, pretty petite |
Little hookers running wild, giving head in the street |
But still, slicing nuts, clean off that’s with the razor |
I’m laughing in the tavern where fresh bruno’s and blazers chilling |
Salt and pepper, queen shit, salt and pepper, ps. |