Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song five, artist - clipping.. Date of issue: 10.02.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
five |
| Where is the guillotine? |
| Let 'em eat yellow cake |
| Shooter with a nuclear family of killers |
| Willing to juice the concentrate |
| Fool it’s a sauna, light a fire under your honor |
| They’re talking life to a lifer, I’m liking the odds |
| Gimme the water |
| Give her the pill |
| Give 'em the needle |
| Beetle Baileys of this world all getting killed someday |
| Say partner, say dog |
| Say what, say what’s going on? |
| Pause |
| This is a stickup |
| Stuckup motherfucker come get some |
| Jet some, he floss some flotsam |
| Boss, um, they got salads to toss, um |
| Crosses to burn, um, losses to learn from |
| Collars to turn up |
| A tear the club up thug |
| A juicy-jay on a motherfucker, they cuttin a rug up |
| A cut up motherfucker looking like lady luck |
| So buck up young buck we got bucks like hoes got fucks to give |
| She don’t give a fuck, shit, you better not |
| Heads high kill em with the kill em with the filament |
| You feeling it? |
| A filibuster filling bust and feeling bust |
| You feel like busting out |
| Bedside manner with some dead eye-candy |
| Apple-red dye fanny-pack, a sack of baby fat’d better back it up |
| Where the titties at? |
| Show that kitty cat |
| Better getting milky with the silky weave |
| Sweating on the satin sheets |
| Rap about it |
| Be about it, be about it |
| Beat it up, the beef is in the freezer |
| But he keep that heater creepin up |
| Shorty boo, baby momma, make it clap |
| Give it up, drop it low |
| Push it, spread it, bite it, kill it, get it get it |
| Throwing paper for the coochie |
| Slapping gucci, rockin gucci |
| Give her gucci, get’s the pussy |
| Redder in the bed or in the car |
| Whippin a rolls, rollin a blunt |
| Dick in a ho, making it bump |
| Faking the funk, seizin |
| Partner it’s too seasoned |
| Fuck with a Pimp-C walk, with a little bit of mouth |
| Please turn em out, preach on a soapbox |
| Botox, cold hot, ho watch it |
| Who gonna fuck with the trillest? |
| The building they building down there |
| On the block got no windows up in it |
| Back like it’s crack for the roaches and rats |
| Giving daps to the dividends, backhand a bitch in the car |
| Stars are for rappers, the televised trappers |
| This shit is the realest, that’s how come he feel it |
| So hard he will knock it while driving to work |
| And he work on the first and the fifteenth |
| When knox got the check in they pockets |
| He pick it, she lock it, she roll it and drop it |
| The acid is burning the weed |
| Smoke it out, high as a bird from the trees |
| Cali dro, Cali go cataracts, freeze |
| Hands in the sky |
| Dive in and driving the lambo |
| And crying from coming down hard |
| Pulling the card, carrying hood motherfucker, my lord |
| Balls of the word, scriptures is semen, they seeming disturbed |
| Flipping the bird, kicked to the curb |
| Ya hunger with yams to be served |