Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cirque Du Soleil , by - Action Bronson. Song from the album Well Done, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 21.11.2011
Record label: Dcide
Song language: English
Cirque Du Soleil |
| One of the few dogs that pulled through the Mike Vick fia… |
| Yo my fault man, my fault |
| One of the few dogs that pulled through the Mike Vick fiasco |
| Heart of a lion with the strength, straight outta Glasgow |
| Pudzianowski, known to let the guns loose |
| Everybody smoking cigarettes in jump suits |
| Kosovo to the basement of your building |
| Terrible dentistry, gold in every filling |
| Cut ‘em a deal bet they let you bring the crills in (?) |
| No English, kill mad kitchen knives concealed in |
| The staircase is where we earn the degree |
| The lawsuits on the fine flesh feeding the fiend |
| Light Caesar-covered skull |
| Eyes are like the ocean blue |
| Stay fly, rock outfits that’s emotional |
| Nice shirt, crazy hat, mean jacket |
| Orange drugs if you’re reppin' for the team clappin' |
| With the capillaries, big gun, Tackleberry |
| Tell the preacher at the chapel get the casket ready |
| Two seven’s hit the third one on the river |
| Chicken liver dinner have your Jewish mother sitting shiva |
| ‘Cause the kid was a putz |
| Hit the clutch, spin the tires ‘til they smoke disappear into the dust, uh |
| Dive in the muff break the pussy like an Asian cookie |
| You the type to shave your face to make your anus bushy |
| Tie a knot in your shirt right by your stomach |
| You make me wanna vomit, steady getting blunted |
| The diesel sweet and sour, the blunt vanilla |
| Twist it to perfection, gentle hands, still a guerrilla |
| I’m at the villa, '97 D’elegance |
| The Pelican Brief, you rapping with irrelevance |
| Hard to kill, call me Mason Storm |
| Your basic elevate my skills to the type of shit that Gracie’s on |
| Omaplata, guard your nose, Haloti Ngata |
| Total knocker, seldom sipping Stoli Vodka |
| Making maneuvers for myself out on a late night |
| The year been great right? |
| Trying to get the plate right |
| ‘Cause I’m a hunter like a great white |
| And a performer, never stage fright |
| I’m outta Flushing, Queens |
| Shoot your gun if you love the smell of money |
| Love the taste of good weed, vintage in your tummy |
| Love a bitch with good puss diggin' in her bunny |
| Peace to gettin' money, peace to gettin' money |
| Yeah, Flushing, Queens. |
| Outdoorsmen shit |
| Yeah, Action Statik Selektah shit |
| Kill yourself now |