Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 1,2...1,2 , by - King GhidraRelease date: 04.04.2019
Song language: English
1,2...1,2 |
| Kongcrete, the most hideous |
| Check it, check it, check it Smoking hash, leave an open ash, broken stash, floating fast, lifted |
| Calm with the broken glass slur board, nasty nigga fucked Bertha |
| Insert her further than murder, pulled out then squirt her |
| Out for murder, out for murder, murder |
| Out for murder, pull a squeezed then hurt her |
| Out for Cheddar piece of cheese when in doubt love |
| Took Alicia Keys in and out love eight nine |
| Hate all hate all fakes you call cross fate |
| Find your body at your girls weight walking |
| Create comment when I start to spit |
| Y’all niggaz spit conformant, conformant |
| Study every religion there is rythym for kids |
| Deadly as venom as this him or his friends of his |
| I’m like a guinnea pig with a skinny snitch hear me big |
| Like a penny-rich, hear me bitch, ready to let you see me spit |
| Here he is, is he really sick or is he really picked |
| To see the vic or is he really dead for what he did |
| Let the machette riffs spaghetti drip ready, get set, ready go Ready to rock with steady flow to let you know we ready to go Is he heavy? |
| Is he petty? |
| I was hungry shorty very yo, for heavy dough |
| I need some heavy dro, Megalon in your stereo |
| Ready to shoot the heady yo Yo! |
| Lyrics with def rap this side of a letter bomb, yo Megalon |
| Pass that Megatron, guys on a hunt like a Predacon |
| Smoking cedarwood trees from Lebanon |
| Facist sprites just on MTV terrorist threats looped on a MPC |
| Travel at a hundred eighty-six thousand kilobytes per second, downloaded on the |
| MP3 |
| 1995 Long Island high-styled in the MPB |
| Monsta Island escaped from MCC |
| By any means, many fiends his team to toast teens |
| Toast the scenes for the hos to scream mostly seen |
| Bruvee avoided get at me Veluciani 'hind me Bahama taki busting shots with Gulianni bust back |
| I squeeze rapping niggaz Y’all been acting like it can happen |
| My Mack 10 make big niggaz’backspin what happened? |
| Is that so? |
| Tommy Brasco stacked overnight flow my abstract flow for cash flow |
| Turned cocaine to crack and turned crack to blow now how the fuck that go? |
| I’m gonna fuck that ho, the white ho and the black ho Lay on your back ho, they made the track slow so I could rap slow Tommy mack hos |
| Yo, yo, my gun is like my girl cuz I don’t wanna let my GAT go I sold crack fast now I sell crack slow |
| In the back on the low, if you ain’t got no dough |
| Come to the back door, I’ll give you a full pack at four |
| Rock rap shows, LB on the map when I blow |
| R&B rap takes it in the ass-crack slow |
| At my last show I snatched gold |
| Black Jesus, its a black Christmas now picture black snow |
| Hey yo we calculate the sands of time in slo-mo |
| Manipulating every moment through space |
| Metabolize the seeds of wealth and let the dough flow |
| Commiting the acts of violence and hate crimes against the po-po |
| Double barrelled hand-held bazooka for sargent shipbays |
| If you want to start frying like E-Robo |
| Blaze that bush whether your mary jane is def or even if it’s so-so |
| Teasing bitches with ice cubes on their nipple, keep them playing with their |
| yo-yo |
| Athletic pussy like Lisa Leslie and Rebecca Lobo |
| Rock the show from uptown, downtown to Tribeca, Soho |
| Most of these rappers are R&B singers like K.C. |
| and Jo-Jo |
| Better off harmonizing with Taj, Leigh Leigh and Coco |
| Thesbian thugs, niggaz is all mouth like the Rolling Stones logo |
| Bianca Jagger, free jacker, jacking me off in a go-go |
| Stuffed down their throats spitting completely bobo |
| Keeping it groovy without the synthetic fucking mojo |
| Got the spot kicking like a donkey locked up inside a dojo |
| Smacked Ralph Lauren, got Tommy Hilfiger picking cotton and rocking Polo |
| Is that so? |
| Niggaz straight lifted, |
| Bring the bisket, bring the bitches, bring their motherfucking statistics |
| Bring their death certificates, |
| Um don’t forget the four blocks, peace to Fort Knox where the four stops |