Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Beans, artist - Frankie Krupnik. Album song El Chucho Grande, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 24.08.2017
Record label: Frankie Krupnik
Song language: English
Black Beans |
| I’m just, eating enchiladas on a Sunday |
| I don’t resort to gun play, muafuckas manic like the Monday |
| I’m sick, like bacon strips in your undies |
| Shit is funky, record pop, vinyl kind of dusty |
| My lady never ages, maybe its Maybelline |
| Maybe it’s those Spanish genes, face creams and black beans |
| My flows like fine dining dinner plates |
| Chinchillas made of mink, your flow be basic like the instinct |
| Frank’s ferocious, fugazis sounding bogus |
| I’m flyer than the lotus, chase shots with cream soda |
| King like the cobra, do the polka on your sofa |
| Balboa spit it sicker than Ebola (Hoe) |
| Canola oil smooth, this shit will be make Stella groove |
| Like Q I got the juice now, my flows like click, chick, POW |
| Duck bitches, when I spit shit, like Sid, yo I’m viscous with that 58 |
| Damn straight, no debate |
| Thought I couldn’t rap without puffing, proved myself wrong |
| Hot like Tucson, cut them samples up like coupons |
| Just move on if you ain’t fuckin with it |
| When it’s all said and done your opinion means nothing kid |
| Zero fucks given, when I’m tearing up a beat |
| Chicken heads clucking, out (there) searching for some street meat |
| The world’s a sick place, lace beats with slick bass |
| I’m out this universe like them clowns from outer space |
| Ya, Ya |
| Abrasive with my word choices |
| Cement shoes on beats, have them sleeping with the oysters |
| Yippy Ki Yay bitch, I’m sitting sideways |
| I do it my way, I love carbohydrates |
| Grape cigarillos, shoes made from armadillos |
| Frankie cooler than the back side of your pillow, kiddo |
| I spit like mac 11's, send beats to heaven |
| Yo, I’m deadly like them sins bitch I’m talking all 7 |
| My music’s soothing like a Morgan Freeman narrative |
| I’m usually boozing, keep that fridge stocked and that’s imperative |
| Car crash, barely lived, got concussed up |
| Maybe that explains why my thought are all fucked up |
| Lock and load, I explode like it’s Oklahoma |
| Hippies drinking mocha’s, at the park doing yoga |
| No more features on my albums |
| I’m the creature from the black lagoon bitch |
| And Frankie flyer than the falcon |
| Random shit, hammers click, fools be ducking |
| Hacking up these beats, I saw them up like Jimmy Duggan |
| Listen pumpkin, I smash beer after beer till I’m near-sighted |
| Used to puff herb in the Caviller until I couldn’t lift my eye lids |
| A hybrid, fucked up like the climate, the finest |
| Muafucka, sippin Wiser’s till I’m silent |
| I’m usually pretty calm, but I rap I get violent |