Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song One More Time , by - Crooked I. Release date: 25.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
One More Time |
| Ayyiyo, hardtop convertible — it’s him again |
| When the car stop it murder you — them killer rims |
| Your heart stop, the seath’s half suede and part croc |
| Paint job far from stock, this is dark chop |
| Hit the block with the system knockin' on some extra loud ish |
| You tell me it’s child ish |
| But I’m, on my Long Beach, Southern Cal' ish |
| And my, fuck a brrrritch, young Chris Brown ish |
| Hahaha. |
| I’m only playin' wit’chu |
| My homegirls gangbang bitch, they’ll hit you |
| Puttin' hands on a woman ain’t a player’s issue |
| I’d rather treat your emotions like they was made of tissue |
| (What that supposed to mean?) Guess I’m an asswipe |
| (Tch, fuck you nigga!) Yeah, that’s right |
| Fuck me like your friend did last night |
| Now go on and call her so y’all can have that catfight |
| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit |
| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit |
| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce |
| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time |
| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit |
| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit |
| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce |
| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time |
| Yeah, niggas ain’t shit (nope) |
| Twenty kids in your past made with the same dick |
| Now it’s a wrap on your present like your dick is Saint Nick |
| Now she talkin' all loud in court |
| Like getting buckwild in sport, hollerin' 'bout child support |
| And you done paid up for e’ry kid |
| She spent yo' money on other niggas and getting her hair did |
| Putting Mac makeup all on her pretty face |
| Just to get the money shot later from Mr. Weapon Waist |
| Call Reverend Mase, tell him that I need prayer |
| And ask him is it a better place for players |
| I’m sorry, I dig a ditch for you critics |
| A black Ferrari to getting rich, I’m commited |
| The second coming of Ice Cube |
| Nigga stitched on my fitted Niggas ain’t shit, I admit it |
| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit |
| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit |
| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce |
| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time |
| Yeah, one mo' time |
| Yeah yeah, just one mo' time (just one mo' time) |
| Baby one mo' time |
| Put your muh’fucking finger in the air and say one mo' time |
| I got you haters mind puzzled |
| How this ghetto as nigga thinking like Russel |
| Going independent was supposed to sink my boat |
| I was already aflout with my side hustle |
| Ice age ain’t over for this Californian |
| But the recession hit yours like global warming |
| Neck look ice-less |
| Damnit man, your bare-ass wrist look timeless, as this rhyme is |
| It’s all about choking chicks with my dick |
| Then get behind her like I’m giving her the Heimlich |
| Bend that tail over, ya dig? |
| I’m signing off, male chauvinist Pig-(face!) |