Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bring Em Out, artist - Bodega Bamz. Date of issue: 13.04.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bring Em Out |
| Tour bus looking like a brothel |
| Catching more bodies than Hostel |
| Flatbush Zombies put money in my pocket |
| If it’s war against them, I’ma pop it |
| Word like apostles |
| Kid from the ghetto listening to heavy metal, rock rolled in my sock |
| I ain’t never been afraid, renegade got bars like mess halls |
| Locked three meals in the cot, nigga, what? |
| Pussy at noon got me feeling brand new |
| When the sun come down, I’m leavin' |
| Fuck I look like? |
| A fool? |
| Throwing shade like cool, bitch don’t wake me up, I’m dreamin' |
| Puff, puff, pass, that’s old school |
| I’m getting yesterday’s paper, that’s old news |
| The way I’m programmed, I never hold hands |
| Straight business, first class, never the coach |
| I’ma handle the game the way I handle the coke |
| Hand to hand on Instagram, picture the post |
| Nigga, picture me broke, I got a pitcher of Henny |
| I know my liver be ready for adios, but I’m stuck like |
| I’m a sure thing, I don’t close call |
| I mean we all kings, but there’s one god |
| There’s one Allah, there’s one Jah, bless |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Now I pose for pictures, can’t fuck with you, be more specific |
| Cross me like when you beg forgiveness |
| I didn’t like your vibe so I kept my distance |
| Niggas do it all for the paper |
| Institution was made then strewn to little girls and boys |
| But now «the world is yours,» my nigga please |
| I done gross over a hundred G’s |
| That’s a lot of of money, still I’m screaming, «Fuck the police!» |
| In my motions I can’t pretend that I’m different than you |
| But nigga listen and pay attention when I make a move |
| Vision blurred, I don’t see no deterrence |
| But seeing the same niggas then saying the same words |
| Cycling that nature, puffing the same flavor |
| My niggas is Tanboys, original delegators |
| We ripping the floor panel and all |
| With a matter of force we go and handle you boys |
| We only family of course |
| Nobody ever gave a fuck about us, you never believed |
| Can’t believe they fucking doubted, now they can see |
| Child of the corn, Darko, freak off the leash |
| Rather unique, who art thou Van Gogh? |
| Randy Savage on beats, I bark proud, pitbull |
| If you break in my house he bark wild, fuck you talking 'bout?! |
| Lil nigga I spark proud, pop a band |
| Throw up bread, you should learned it by now |
| Make 'em say, «ugh,» then examine her mouth |
| Then it’s get to stepping, I’m kicking Pamela out (Get to stepping!) |
| That Tommy hold a lot of slugs might be a hundred rounds |
| Them Flatbush niggas a shmurda ya, rusty tre pounds |
| Shoot you and throw it in the air, like a cap and gown |
| I demand the throne and the crown, tell 'em I want it now (Ha!) |
| Hair swinging when I’m shooting like O-Dog in that movie |
| Zombie gang fully lucid, Bathing Ape, fully draped |
| GG Allin lucky I ain’t get to shit on his grave |
| Knuckle it behind bars like a prisoner in cage |
| Johnny Cage, black shades, hit off half yo face |
| My orange box-cutter make the world rotate |
| My orange box-cutter make the world rotate |
| On its axis, acid, sheets that ain’t for the mattress, bastard |
| I need a honor roll for this shit, I need a honor roll for this shit |
| Thank the Lord it’s lit, thank the Lord it’s lit |
| Hopping out a bodega, need a pack, never later, later |
| Flatbush, Tanboy stylin' (WHOO!) |
| All my niggas get lit like a chalice, all my niggas get lit like a chalice |
| Cookies in my blunt, liquor in my gut, most you niggas suck |
| I’m on top of the world like Brandy said |
| So high, so high like Michel’le |
| Feeling unstoppable every bone and my particles |
| In the cut blowing tropicals |
| And they said it’s impossible for a black young man to kill this shit |
| For a tan young man to kill this shit |
| So, more or less I do my thing |
| No stress, no crane, progression, mane |
| More or less we do our thing |
| No stress, no crane, progression, mane |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |
| Where the hoes? |
| Where the hoes? |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |