Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Metal Lungies , by - Masta Killa. Song from the album Masta Killa Presents: The Next Chamber, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопMetal Lungies |
| World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere |
| World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere |
| What these clown niggas hollerin'? |
| What they need to be hollerin', is «There go Theodore!» |
| Put the ball down, we can’t score |
| They pen shit to blackboards, make queens out of wack broads |
| You see us comin'? |
| Fuck that Fam shit, just pass off, you bitch |
| Crystal' Dana Dane’s wrapped around your neck |
| Lookin' rich, baow, you fucked up now |
| See my gun, nigga? |
| This baby got stuffed uptown |
| Shouted out, made a whole safe with the pump root pounds |
| My buddy, keep my gun, right next to my tummy |
| Ask the click, yo, they spit metal lungies |
| Detach wigs, kill flunkies off contact, sonsee |
| Didn’t mommy tell y’all niggas to wear clean undies? |
| See y’all should have listened to her |
| She knew her son had a big mouth, and some day death would occur |
| Please for Ms. Gale’s sake, and her seeds |
| Pastor Freddy ain’t fuckin' around, they knocked him with weed |
| Uh-oh (word up) |
| It’s them (what you talkin' bout, baby?) |
| Real kids spit that shit |
| Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, yo, yeah |
| Me and Starks clear projects parks |
| With our '93 shit, army coat green and light tan Clarks |
| Niggas think I’m lucky, bitches wanna fuck me |
| And put me in the tub with them like I’m a rubber ducky |
| I got a revolver in the pump about the size of Chucky |
| I remember faces easy as I tie my laces |
| Here, put the metal in your mouth, like you was rockin' braces |
| I spit an iron lungie, yeah, I’m old school like the Iron Monkey |
| My shit powerful enough to lift a fuckin' donkey |
| I got heavy chrome, niggas don’t care if you live or die |
| They happier that Marbury home |
| Ya’ll niggas better kill me, my street niggas feel me |
| Louch gotta eat, ends gotta meet |
| The hard shit you kickin' bout as R&B as Tweet |
| This is Theodore, D-Block, the year adore |
| The sunroof open with the four-four, niggas like. |
| Uh-oh (word up) |
| It’s them (what you talkin' bout, baby?) |
| Real kids spit that shit |
| Yeah… nigga this is Ghost with Ghostface |
| I don’t sell millions but I get millions from the fiends who smoke base |
| Somebody leavin' out with a poked face |
| Tone, you burn him and kick his teeth out, so we don’t catch no case |
| I’ma make him look like he smoke base |
| We don’t leave no trace |
| These rap niggas swear that they so safe |
| I don’t wanna talk to you holmes, I don’t communicate |
| My guns be in my hand more than my phone |
| And I could dial your number, knock the smile off your face |
| With the H.K. |
| 9, out the all-black hummer |
| Metal lungies’ll spit the grungiest shit |
| Hungriest shit, seventeen dummies a clip |
| Tell them rap niggas to suck my dick, fuck the industry |
| If shit shut down, they’ll still bust my shit |
| I got some hustlin' ass niggas that’ll pump my bricks |
| And some dust head niggas that’ll dump my clips, what? |
| Uh-oh (word up) |
| It’s them (what you talkin' bout, baby?) |
| Real kids spit that shit |
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Masta Killa
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Ghostface Killah