| Albanian style: rock leathers in the sand
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| I’ll shoot my cousin for nothing: dominant man
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| Go visit fam with no problems — on some normal shit
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| Straight from Skopje, Macedonia, the floral lit
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| Licorice liquor, one cube, a touch of water
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| Watch it mix, turn white like the Duchess' daughter
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| I’m in the corner puffing Ganja with the musky odor
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| Destination back of your throat — cup of soda
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| Uh. |
| This is Bam Bam Bigelow, Queens to Asbury Park connect: Figaro
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| My uniform Carhartt sweats and Gore-tex athletic horses on my chest and on my
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| short sets
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| The Leslie Nielsen of the weed and the words
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| This is Action Bronsolinni, 33 and the 3rd, kid
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| Naked gun, the serial is scratched off
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| Armed like Rocket in his prime, blast off
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there
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| Push your seat back. |
| The Rickey Henderson of rap
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| Jets hat, underneath a little blubber lie the 6 pack
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| Summer time I cop the musket with the kick back
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| Then sit back, stand up, eyes low, hit that
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| This happens continuously throughout the night
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| Now my eyes are like diamonds, that’s looking blue-ish in the light
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| Like a prism, shooting out hope, honor, and optimism
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| Never stop it till we’re coastal on the aqua mission
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| Reach my hand in the water and grab a tuna
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| Silhouette you see reflection of light, right off the Mezzaluna
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| That’s a half moon, wavy like my man’s fade
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| The European carry-all. |
| Color: tan, suede
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| Handmade, hand blades, carve up your features, I’m a creature
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| Section 39 — I’m in the bleachers
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| Fiends get washed up like turtles on the beaches
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| It’s mating season make the verbal for your speakers
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there
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| Ill prosciutto. |
| legend, Phil Rizzuto
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| Marijuana like the pussy, I keep it crudo
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| That’s raw, now I declare war
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| You in the women’s league
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| I show you how a man score
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| Look at my beard and my body like a grizzly
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| I’m shoulder pressing 3 plates
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| Obama — EBT. |
| I’m a G. Supermarket sweepstakes
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| Still drinking vintage out the bottle with the cheese plate
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| The Derek Harper with the low Caesar, flow fever
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| More than likely digging in your ho’s beaver
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| Drug smoke to my neck just like a turkey
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| Dough dirty, make your brother do a curtsy. |
| no mercy, Van Buren cop Hershey
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| Square Tyson and I’m in the mountains eating rare bison
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| Clam chowder, you ain’t fucking with this man-power
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| Straight from Queens, where we’re known to make your plans sour
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there
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| On and on, push it through, we won
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| Never stop till the day we there |