| Clayborne Family, Clayborne Family
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| Yeah, yeah, yeahhhhhh
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| Clayborne Family, move through the uninvited
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| Smack the pee out the guest list
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| What I got good thugs and guerilla bodyguards they made of steel
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| I wonder who gon' protect this
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| You with the FBI, Secret Service men
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| I can’t even reveal my vocal expression
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| How you gon' pose and tell the world you got mad bodies?
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| Sold kilos of drugs standin next to detectives
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| I was believin that one time, you ain’t gonna fool mine
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| But I’ma let you fool the public mind
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| An alert murder dog, youse a commercial fraud
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| With bras and thongs like a broad
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| Yo hype is well kept behind closed doors
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| The city think you hard, a lot of niggas are dumb
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| The city think you God
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| You wouldn’t hit a square all blindfolded
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| Keep your apron on, put up the curtain rod
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| You got everybody scared, you hurtin hard
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| I don’t even trust the guy wearin the peach Izod
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| What you drinkin with? |
| Smell the funk get crunk
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| What you drinkin with? |
| Get crunk, smell the skunk
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| What you drinkin with? |
| Smell the funk get crunk
|
| What you drinkin with? |
| Get crunk, smell the skunk
|
| What you drinkin with? |
| Smell the funk get crunk
|
| What you drinkin with? |
| (Clayborne Family)
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| Clayborne Family, we strike with the ruthless touch
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| Ruthless what? |
| Clear the block out
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| Crime family, everybody does somethin
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| Whatever, brind bad news bad weather
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| Cadillac, four deep with the battle axe
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| Trunk filled with that massive cash
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| It’s massive stash, blunt tri-state
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| Go postal, coast to coast yo
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| We send the work straight out, straight to Kosovo
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| Felony clique we a terrible clique
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| You got another well we frost kid it’s sick
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| 24's, we got 24 whores
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| All 100% top shelf
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| They all cock back shot you fall back
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| Come chill black, we got the Hatfields
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| We been feudin for a hundred years, old
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| My fam is my fam
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| To put your body out my fam
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| Leave you down head slammed
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| Take your shit my fam
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| Clayborne we gone
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| Sit back and just throw airball
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| Recall, my family take it all
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| Escort, strip club, strip parlors
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| Pay up dollars to me or my brothers
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| Money folds, we run holes in the wall
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| Kids don’t bite call the cops patrol
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| Powder cookers pinch yes we pushers
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| Don’t associate with any users, hate ya
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| So we shoot up your Crown Victoria
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| My lawyer and me sit and laugh at ya
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| Cops scope kids jumpin rope arrest they hope nope
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| Y.O.'s traffic holdin my dope wodie
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| My hustler’s hard goodie goodie read sticky sticky
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| My homey stick you for your money money
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| CLAYBORNE! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Claborne BBQ , by - Kool Keith. Song from the album Official Space Tape, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп