Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Two Words, artist - Kanye West.
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Two Words |
Well, it is a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth |
It is a weeping and a mourning and a gnashing of teeth |
It is a — when it comes to my sound which is the champion sound |
Believe (believe!) |
Okay Lamborghini Mercy, your chick, she so thirsty |
I’m in that two-seat Lambo with your girl, she tryna jerk me Drop it to the floor, make that ass shake |
Whoa, make the ground move, that’s an ass quake |
Built a house up on that ass, that’s an ass state |
Roll my weed on it, that’s an ass tray |
Say Ye, say Ye, don’t we do this every day-day |
I work them long nights, long nights to get a pay day |
Finally got paid, now I need shade and a vacay |
(And niggas still hating) so much hate I need an AK |
Now we out in Paris, yeah I’m Perriering |
White girls politicking, that’s that Sarah Palin |
Gettin’high, Californicating |
I give her that D, cause that’s where I was born and raised in Yeah it’s prime time, my top back, this pimp game ho |
I’m red leather, this cocaine, I’m Rick James ho |
I’m bill-dropping Ms. Pac-Man, this pill popping-ass ho |
I’m popping too, these blue dolphins need two coffins |
All she want is some heel money, all she need is some bill money |
He take his time, he counts it out, I weighs it up, that’s real money |
Check the neck, check the wrist, them heads turning, that’s exorcist |
My Audemar like Mardi Gras, that’s Swiss time and that’s excellence |
Two-door preference, roof gone, George Jefferson |
That white frost on that pound cake so your Duncan Hines is irrelevant |
Lambo, Murcie-lago, she go wherever I go, wherever we go, we do it pronto |
Well, it is a weeping and a mourning and a gnashing of teeth in the dancehall |
And who no have teeth gwan rub pon them gums cause |
When time it comes to my sound, which is the champion sound |
The bugle has blown fi many times, and it still have one more time left |
Cause the amount of stripe weh deh pon our shoulder |
Let the suicide doors up I threw suicides on the tour bus |
I threw suicides on the private jet |
You know what that mean, I’m fly to death |
I step in Def Jam building like I’m the shit |
Tell 'em give me fifty million or I’m-a quit |
Most rappers taste level ain’t at my waist level |
Turn up the bass 'til it’s up-in-your-face level |
Don’t do no press but I get the most press, kid |
Plus, yo my bitch make your bitch look like Precious |
Something about Mary, she gone off that Molly |
Now the whole party is melted like Dalí |
Now everybody is movin’they body |
Don’t sell me apartment, I’ll move in the lobby |
Niggas is loiterin’just to feel important |
You gon’see lawyers and niggas in Jordans |
Ok, now ketchup to my campaign, coupe the color of mayonnaise |
I’m drunk and high at the same time, drinkin’champagne on the airplane (Tell em) |
Spit rounds like the gun range, beat it up like Rampage |
100 bands, cut your girl, now your girl need a bandaid |
Grade A, A1, chain the color of Akon |
Black diamonds, backpack rhyming, co-signed by Louis Vuitton (Yup!) |
Horsepower, horsepower, all this Polo on I got horsepower |
Pound of this cost four thousand, I make it rain, she want more showers |
Rain pourin', all my cars is foreign |
All my broads is foreign, money tall like Jordan |