Lyrics of Picca picche e glen - Axos, Jack the Smoker, MRB

Picca picche e glen - Axos, Jack the Smoker, MRB
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Picca picche e glen, artist - Axos.
Date of issue: 30.12.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: Italian

Picca picche e glen

(original)
Picca picche e glen, picca picche e glen
Grazie a Dio non sono te
Giù con M e Jack, quale gang
Picca picche e glen
Quando passo mangio i confetti
Strappo i biglietti e scopo la sposa (mandala!)
Rimando questi bulletti
Negli armadietti della tua scuola (vai a casa!)
Con te faceva la suora, a me fra' lecca la suola
Parli di questo e di quello da quasi un’ora, vendi qualcosa?
Eh no perché sembrava proprio, asciuga un po' il tuo socio
Che un tipo raffinato zio, da me si dice froc-
Sul beat sono grandissimo, come il sugo di Jack
Tu da qui sei piccolissimo e non ho il culo su un jet
Sono MRBomba, faccio il timer sopra la tomba
Beccami a fine serata, ho i concetti di Alberto Tomba
Lirica che sputa nella tromba delle scale
Per chi non ha casa libera e la tromba sulle scale
Stile che vi fa male come gli sbagli o i tagli col sale
Voglio ventagli fatti coi soldi, senza rimorsi e senza le pare
Scrivo strofe alle cinque perché vanno via come il pane
E tu stai dietro le quinte, meglio una prima ma naturale
(translation)
Pike spades and glen, pike spades and glen
Thank God I'm not you
Down with M and Jack, which gang
Pike spades and glen
When I pass, I eat the sugared almonds
I tear off the tickets and fuck the bride (mandala!)
I defer these bullies
In your school lockers (go home!)
She was a nun with you, my brother licks the sole
You've been talking about this and that for almost an hour, do you sell anything?
Eh no because it looked like it, dry your partner a bit
That a refined uncle, to me says a froc-
I'm great on the beat, like Jack's gravy
From here, you are very small and I don't have my ass on a jet
I'm MRBomba, I'm the timer above the grave
Catch me at the end of the evening, I have Alberto Tomba's concepts
Lyric spitting in the stairwell
For those who don't have free house and the trumpet on the stairs
A style that hurts you like mistakes or salt cuts
I want fans made with money, without remorse and without thinking
I write verses at five o'clock because they go away like hotcakes
And you are behind the scenes, better a first but natural
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Artist lyrics: Axos