Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dunk On Them, artist - Kool Keith. Album song Lost Masters Collection, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 03.08.2009
Record label: Oglio
Song language: English
Dunk On Them |
| Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens Manhattan, Staten Island |
| Keith! |
| In the house |
| It ain’t about the bitch with a wig like she comin from China |
| Y’all fronted in rented Benzes with Avis on 'em |
| No breakfast, I’m goin home, fuck Chelsea or diner |
| Let the guys with the chrome buckets expose the cuffs, be a co-signer |
| I’m in your ass man, close like your Starter jacket liner |
| Dr. J sharper, plug your asshole up with a tub stopper |
| Your wife’s a New York City Breaker |
| Your baby’s mom is a pop-locker, know the metropolitan area |
| Custodian nigga, you sanitation worker shit cleaner |
| Floor mopper, look down on the city with binoculars |
| Piss out at choppers |
| Defecate 80 thousand feet in the air |
| I flip your small game, take your small urban territory |
| Put the street in the air |
| My shit rise, increase like subway fare |
| Scuffle your dinner wear |
| Your sneaker line ain’t makin it, I piss on four pair |
| You know the big-head boy from the projects, retarded motherfucker |
| You know you be in child care, you better stay there |
| Your crew get picked up with shitty diapers from daycare |
| Your foe be his crib death |
| The top rappers receive hot dogs up they ass, they get F Mark flush the toilet, you shit next |
| Expand your stomach range with tummy pains |
| Shit in the back of your Bentley when it rains |
| Leave your wooden panels with shit stains |
| Throw the turds out the windows |
| Watch them bounce in the carpool lanes |
| Hot 97 |
| The shit expand, over your Jacob the diamond watch |
| The penis is loose, we piss in your hand |
| Yo… yo where’s the block at? |
| Uhh |
| They say 106th &Park is on, I’m mad, fuck it it’s on I haven’t heard a hard record in years, uhh |
| Everybody dancin, Harlem Shakin, strip Free naked |
| And put a pole up, and watch the ratings go up And if AJ steps, take his Jacob and slap off the makeup |
| I’m in the crowd like Lee Malvo, with a sniper rifle |
| A hockey mask, a butcher knife |
| Yo who knows what I’ll do They sellin dreams with a rap battle — uh-huh |
| Look — yeah — you rappers are kids, and rappin with a rap rattle |
| … nobody ever comes out — that’s right |
| No twelve inches, no fires, no jets |
| Early retired, no links |
| No chains, no videos, no baguettes — uhh |
| «Don't Speak,"uh-huh — I’m gettin Gwen Stefani |
| She’s tossed up, sellin pussy like every week |
| So don’t fight me — uhh, you can hype me — that’s right |
| I’m liable to go out with a terrorist style |
| I’m liable to flow out with a terrible style |
| Viacom bought you (suckers) |
| I’m outta here nigga I’m changin the dial |
| Hot 97 |
| No more cars and shit, we suicide bombers |
| Nigga, walk up in your radio station |
| We get gas from the gas station nigga |
| You better ask public relations, blow out your DJ booth |
| With hats off, like motherfuckin Dr. Seuss |
| No buckets, strictly bombs under the North Face goose |
| Caught you with acid baby |
| We put it in your motherfuckin orange juice |
| Fuck a turned up cap |
| How bout a burnt up motherfuckin baseball cap |
| With a whack-ass rap |
| We detonate with three sticks of dynamite through your turntables |
| Blow out your ass crack |
| You ain’t the motherfuckin pimp, you ain’t the motherfuckin mack |
| Review this right, you gon’drink a daquiri |
| Are you gon’come back to me Are you gon’get smacked from me Fuck around look how you act to me… bitch… Hot 97 |