| Beauty Dior, Cherokee, Pinky
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| Roxy Reynolds bouncing on the steps, slinky
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| Give her something white and filled with cream, twinkie
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| Leave her blinded semen in her eyes, blinky
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| So it seems
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| Can’t even believe I used that flow I’m outta Queens
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| Off the hooker strip boulevard of dreams
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| Runways are getting trains stealing credit cards and schemes
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| She was laying on the floor with honey mustard on her sleeves
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| I said get up then she got up, get up in this whip bitch
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| We bout to smoke this pot up plus I got some white
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| You could be the first to taste the product, just a little dirty
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| Had the body of a model, sent a message in a bottle
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| Tell my man set the bed up, he built a wooden room quick
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| Went to the tool shed, got on his hammer, nail, and screw shit
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| Now we livin' lavish eaten salmon on a cruise ship
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| Laying in a hammock getting hammered with a jew bitch
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| We want no drama, come here mama
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| Dale y mamar (yo come here baby girl)
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| Please don’t get so wild, keep the chrome cal
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| Te deja explotar (don't get bodied homie)
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| Eso te mata, cool it papa
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| Echate pa' tras (move back gimme space)
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| I’m up in my zone, hoes pass tha ron
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| Esto ta cabron (shit crazy)
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| Yo just roll my dutches, prep my outfit for the party
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| Spray my body with aromas, got the ladies actin naughty
|
| Fine fabric delegates my people far from celibate
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| Hardly delicate highly skilled with much intelligence
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| Walk in the place jacket hangin' past the calves
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| Play the shorts in every season corner schemes get turned to math on some
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| 5 in the mornin' shit, she looking flyer than anyone on that bitch
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| Ocean high yeah I’m on that shit muthafucka (?) when I’m on that shit
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| Pop pop tops of the Clicquot time to raise our glass up
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| Right out the bottle, with a model, with amazing asses
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| Wipe off the ashes, 16 flavors (?) butter
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| Rose out the gutter, we stand around lenses shutter
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| Ladies grindin' all up on my dickie
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| Cause we gorgeous we forage the forest
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| I’m destined for greatness we ballin regardless
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| I’m heartless so baby tell me what you wanna do
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| (I wanna suck it 'til my mouth’s filled with cum from you)
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| 20 below the bitch seen walkin' the strip
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| With that pink gloss on her lip
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| And that big cross on her tits
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| And she frontin' like she religious but stay stalkin' a dick
|
| Goin right at the head like some steamed crawfish n shit
|
| She know up in the club for years fuck for bagels
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| Her face is weathered like the rain that fall in April
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| And in her pants she got a loaf of bread
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| You know the yeast she never go to bed
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| She rather dope or head
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| I just don’t get it cause Mercedes was a honey
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| All the ballers wanna fuck her buy her mink and give her money
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| Her facials disappearin' and her nose is always runny
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| Dentistry is twisted like the grill that’s on a monkey
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| Lower body skinny, upper body husky
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| Call em linebackers she’s a character a junkie
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| Still, she pop it and the people throw the pennies
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| Plus I’m here to watch her give the team a bunch of hennies cuz |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Miss Fordham Road (86' 87' 88), artist - Action Bronson. Album song Well Done, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп