Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gunz & Butter, artist - Marco Polo. Date of issue: 16.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gunz & Butter |
| You put the flower in the grinder and you crank it |
| In bed with Mary, you could find her in my blanket |
| You got fire, I’ma blaze it, call it rise to the occasion |
| Fat shatter patties, budder drying in the basement |
| I don’t need no provocation to smoke, my occupation’s to toke |
| Even though it’s also making me broke |
| Come on Barack Obama gotta lend some change with the stroke of the pen |
| Quit persecuting all of those you’re supposed to defend |
| How’d it be, taking tokes of the Sour D, hourly |
| Gone like a falcon on the balcony |
| I’m trippin when I’m out of weed |
| I need a Buddha sack, that Pre-98 Bubba, Headband, the Super Jack |
| Blowing never get far, opening the fresh jar |
| Little Skywalker choking on the Death Star |
| Spoil bragger, e-nail coil rapper |
| Royal shatter rapper spitting harder than my oil spatter |
| My whole click keeps blowing all the glass |
| Growin all the grass and smoking all your hash |
| It’s a green rush |
| But we ain’t in it just for cash |
| We in it for the love till death dust and ash |
| I’m in the kitchen and I’m frying chicken |
| Eyes chinese, been getting hiney since the 90's |
| Cold honey and a parchment paper, hit the nail |
| Now I’m gone like when the wind hits the sails |
| Mami keep the bail for me cause she know that I be doing wrong |
| Now the beamer look like it got ewings on |
| Move strong, my bitch is jewish with a blue thong |
| Dabbing award winner out the new bong |
| Adjust the nail on the rig, now I’m sweating |
| Keep the pen in my pocket, I’m always rappin |
| Seven dabs open my visiano at the table |
| I’m known to order duck like Donald |
| Recession proof, I never need a bail out |
| I’m waiting for the postman, my drugs are on his mail route |
| I can do anything myself except for self doubt |
| So I don’t ever seek help, I only help out |
| It’s mad work, we doing lots of trimming |
| Then getting stoned like Islamic women |
| When cops slippin, the system is flawed |
| Isn’t it odd, when Gods given us plans |
| When it’s stances that laws forbid them |
| And watch out if you black and you speaking Spanish |
| Cause that racist law was made to attack and defeat Hispanics |
| It’s propaganda, we laughin at reefer madness |
| But the privatized prisons will profit when people vanish |
| That’s why I feel like the loneliest dude |
| The only one out of my friends without a Mobius tube |
| It’s rude, I don’t collect, I just buy and I use |
| I kinda abuse, my glass clogged, try and defuse, you lose |
| (Samples) |
| That bacon quave with the eggs man, I see you on some other shit |
| Fabulous, makes me wanna beam aboard the mother ship |
| For many too mafia, and Darby guns, it’s a take over |
| Spitting fire like my man Bates glass flamethrower |
| Smoking in my bath tub, cause fuck the damn club |
| I’m home alone, taking dabs out my HAMM bub |
| It’s all American, no phoney’ish |
| My only wish is I had a never ending supply in my Burtoni dish |
| Staying at the raddest inn, taking dabs at Addison |
| San Francisco stop to meet with Julio and dab again |
| We link with Chad and stay in san diego |
| Backstage at the bay cup, blazing with Danny Danko |
| Peace to Magweedo, Topher, and Toke Daddy |
| FunkMaster Kush, let’s twist up a bush and smoke fatties |
| And big ups to Wheezy feel like every show |
| You seem to always save our ass yo wherever we go |
| Hey yo, my buddy juggy acting funny off a hubby bar |
| Looking like a poo bear with his head stuck in a honey jar |
| Each etize sweet, at the hard rock |
| Rockstars carving out, I spark from the bar stuff |
| My life’s one big oil adventure |
| I’m laying honeys and making moneys like coil condensors |
| Let’s go |