Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Beez, artist - Kid Cudi. Album song Indicud, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Beez |
| Who could take a single buck, an empty cup, a stroke of luck |
| Fuck around and reconstruct it up to a million bucks |
| In God we trust, every part of us is marvelous |
| You Krusty Krab squad, ya’ll will rust, ya’ll ain’t hard enough |
| Demolition expert, I exert through your network while the TEC squirt jerk |
| There’s holes inside your sweatshirt |
| Through your apparel, through your blood, through your bone marrow |
| Precise with this mic device, slice your pie like Sbarros |
| You falling nigga, and you can’t get up |
| You been stalling motherfucker now your ass is stuck |
| Brooklyn, Brownsville, baby stay with the Killer Hill crazy |
| Ankle strap above the boot, it conceals my three eighty |
| Are you running for this money money, hunting eggs like easter bunny |
| Geeks trying to beast upon me, freak I will eat a zombie |
| Calm and double while you jumping through these hurdles, silly rabbit |
| The race is always won by the turtle, mental machinery |
| Purple herbal mixed with that greenery |
| I don’t write songs, grasshopper, I write sceneries |
| Everything ain’t what it seems to be, what it means to you it don’t mean to me |
| Bzzzz, a sting from the killer bees |
| In God I trust, now I don’t give no fucks |
| (Dropping them them them, motherfucking Beez) |
| Beez on 'em |
| Stings bitch |
| Bzzzz… BzzzzZZZzzz |
| I pass any test of litmus, I workout at 24 fitness |
| On the weekends, I sip Belvedere with that citrus |
| My dogs is vicious, exotic |
| Exotic nympho whore for the mistress |
| Life is good, I live every day like it’s Christmas |
| Happy New Year, I does what the fuck I wanna do here |
| I splash that Gucci shit from the shirt to the shoewear |
| Trust the rings out, wife beater tee with the wings out |
| Long dick stamina, I fuck a bird til she sings out |
| La la la la, Bobby could convert Lady Gaga |
| Back to heterosexual, I’m classy like Impala |
| Plus I’m federal, when it comes to making dollas |
| Like Jigga nigga man, if you hear me then holla |
| Gold rings like the Green Lantern |
| You see me in the mean phantom |
| Pushing over there in Ohio, outside of Canton |
| Or maybe in the grotty, rugged projects of Staten |
| Tall redbone in my shower, she looking like Paula Patton |