| Y’all fucked up, shoulda stuck me in ICU
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| Cause the type of shit that I’m on, when I see you…
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| Dollar fifty in your face, Tryin' to graze ya
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| The lead go in the bone and your face get stuck to my razor
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| Kick your shoulders from your head while you pleadin your case…
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| And the little girls you with like: «yo he’s gonna eat his face!»
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| Pull out 2 nine’s and an eight, two for killin' one for drillin'
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| Hold metal to your face if you think you’re supervillain
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| Talk to women with sex and to God with a pistol
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| Fuck a married Mossberg, my barrel’s stayin' single
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| With a pregnant pump I let shit jump out on the floor
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| See how it moves now I leave out with tools
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| I’ll leave out the school of robots by the chorus
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| Like when I jumped off tour bus ran home and did more dust
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| Stick your hands up like the camera’s upside down
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| And you got pussy in your lap and you goin' fuck right now
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| And if you wanna get freaky and nasty
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| We can make good in the back of the cabby
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| Come to daddy…
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| They wanna kill me in the club
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| Put slugs in my mug, player I don’t give a fuck
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| Come to daddy…
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| These punks wanna jump
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| Come to daddy…
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| These chickens gettin drunk
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| Come to daddy…
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| You want me to put slugs in ya?
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| Come to daddy…
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| Ok…
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| Come to daddy…
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| What?
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| Come to daddy…
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| I fall in on that spot babe, I’m peepin' your game
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| Swivel table round that ass girl it’s lookin real good
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| These lame frogs try to play ball, I’m used to the pitch
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| I’ll put a screen on your dames body, scoopin' your bitch
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| So get played on that game called, losin' your shit
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| Come redecorate your crib fast, movin' your shit
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| I’m still peepin' out your dames ass, losin' the grip
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| On that neck head through the plate glass
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| Loose shoots in ya' wig
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| Yo, Cadillac STS, with some tamed hash
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| Tanqa Ray, grape fruit juice, stained glass
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| And I spend cash all night and clap off twice
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| And pack bongs tight and sip martini’s fast
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| And get ass all night…
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| And I can come and choke you up let’s all hear it
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| Tellin' me not to do it when I swing you from the terrace
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| Major pain to the establishment
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| Made famous in seconds…
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| Get props and guest spots on black plots like checkers…
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| And if you wanna get freaky and nasty
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| We can make good in the back of the cabby
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| Come to daddy…
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| They wanna kill me in the club
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| Put slugs in my mug, player I don’t give a fuck
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| Come to daddy…
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| These punks wanna jump
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| Come to daddy…
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| These chickens gettin drunk
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| Come to daddy…
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| You want me to put slugs in ya?
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| Come to daddy…
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| Ok…
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| Come to daddy…
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| What?
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| Come to daddy…
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| You can’t take shit too far? |
| You can’t take it far enough!
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| You’d think Colin Powell came and A&R'ed us
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| Pull out like pre-aids in front of your girl scandalous shit
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| Take more strength out my finger to handle your chick
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| And when I leave I’ll bet she’ll be up on your shit list
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| The best knockers I’ve seen was on a Jehovah’s Witness
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| So if you’re trunk look good I’ll run the Caddy
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| Til your chickens come to daddy now come with daddy…
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| Yo, some ecstasy pills a bag of dope I’ll make you spazz out at the wheel
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| Makin' you smash into poles, get your head open then shatter your nose
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| And get them bitches open crackin' laughin' at holmes
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| Well it’s on all up in the club Liberty City
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| With these stupid bitches sniffin' on kitty lickin' on titties
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| And the problem stops, after the collars pop
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| Roofies have you with some ugly bitches swallowing crotch
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| And if you wanna get freaky and nasty
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| We can make good in the back of the cabby
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| Come to daddy…
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| They wanna kill me in the club
|
| Put slugs in my mug, player I don’t give a fuck
|
| Come to daddy…
|
| These punks wanna jump
|
| Come to daddy…
|
| These chickens gettin drunk
|
| Come to daddy…
|
| You want me to put slugs in ya?
|
| Come to daddy…
|
| Ok…
|
| Come to daddy…
|
| What?
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| Come to daddy… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Come To Daddy, artist - Cage. Album song Weatherproof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп