| See, cute time is over
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| I’m about to roll up my sleeves on these bitches
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| I’m about to take my earrings off
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| Don’t make me take my earrings off
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| Throw my hair back real quick
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| Throw my Chucks on
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| Quit playing with these motherfuckers
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| I’m on some Kung Fu Hustle shit
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| Scream lady with no muzzle shit
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| Y’all don’t really wanna tussle with
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| Brick City, we be on that Bumpy Knuckles shit
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| Or had ‘em boys turn into some real duffle shit
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| Shanks and hammers, now wait for the cameras
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| Waste a lone gangsta, don’t need no bandannas
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| Rhyme hard but those darts even harder
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| Y’all talking about murders, but all I see is martyrs
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| One, three, go—watch me blow
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| Right past these niggas and these knock-kneed hoes
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| I ain’t really need for the small talk, y’all walk that a way
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| Baby don’t cry,
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| See I don’t want to have to get indignant
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| Hollywood to Miss Urban in a minute, Nicole Kidman
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| No smidgen of upbringin', fuck swingin'
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| Guns by the waist, I’mma punch ‘em in the face
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| I’m on some Kung Fu Hustle shit
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| Scream lady with no muzzle shit
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| Y’all don’t really wanna tussle with
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| Brick City, we be on that Bumpy Knuckles shit
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| Or had ‘em boys turn into some real duffle shit
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| This vaseline-on-the-face type music
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| This badda-bing-in-your-face type music
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| Y’all don’t want it with them born-again hooligans
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| Type of bitch that stab your ass with a pen
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| No metaphysical, more like mega-physical
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| Too deep in this piece to let a typical
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| Bum trick try to score one, I implore one
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| A rain dance, but it won’t be a George one
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| A rated-R, be a violence-and-gore one
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| A Pharaohe-Monch-now-we-callin'-it-war one
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| Get-trampled-before-they-get-out-the-door one
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| Then I’m goin' on a tour (One!)
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| January, February, March, April, dag
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| Some saying that I’m too hard, I think they just
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| (Hey! Not supposed to say that word!)
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| Too late—all these rappin'-ass faggots getting punched in the face
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| I’m on some Kung Fu Hustle shit
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| Scream lady with no muzzle shit
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| Y’all don’t really wanna tussle with
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| Brick City, we be on that Bumpy Knuckles shit
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| Or had ‘em boys turn into some real duffle shit
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| I smell a rumble, welcome to the jungle
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| Don’t be a smart-ass, cats be disgruntled
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| Won’t be satisfied till one of us son you
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| Russian mafia-style punk, do svidan-you
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| Always been a little loud mouth foul mouth
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| Third round, they already got the towel out
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| I pow-wow with skateboarders and
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| Shits and giggles, all y’all do is take orders
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| Huh! |
| I play it under with abused bitches
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| You only here for my amuse, bitches
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| Give it your best shot, I take two of y’all
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| You probably have better luck with a voodoo doll
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| Look, not the hands, nope not the rhymes
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| Never get beatdowns ‘cept when I box with my mom
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| You’re cool, I’m cool, hey chick, choose your fate
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| We can have play dates or get punched in the face
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| I’m on some Kung Fu Hustle shit
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| Scream lady with no muzzle shit
|
| Y’all don’t really wanna tussle with
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| Brick City, we be on that Bumpy Knuckles shit
|
| Or had ‘em boys turn into some real duffle shit |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Earrings Off , by - Marco Polo. Song from the album PA2: The Director's Cut, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп