Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Stomp, artist - Murphy Lee. Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Stomp |
| Uhh, King Jacob |
| Yeah, Fala Beats |
| Murph, Durph, ohh (Derrty E.N.T.) |
| We all we got |
| My niggas we gon' stomp, that’s what we gon' do |
| The girls gon' bounce, the gangstas gon' groove |
| My nigga we gon' stomp, that’s what we gon' do |
| The playas gon' win, the haters gon' lose |
| I said we gon' stomp, that’s what we gon' do |
| The girls gon' bounce, the gangstas gon' groove |
| My nigga we gon' stomp, that’s what we gon' do |
| The playas gon' win, the haters gon' lose |
| I said we gon' stomp |
| 7 in a day roller, bong smoker, dope choker |
| Fo'-fo' two hundred spoker, Polo sporter, bet I poke her |
| Call me Mr. Roper, medulla oblongata slicer |
| Shoot dice up, pursue the juice that move the price up |
| 'F' you if you don’t like us, fool, your life up |
| Me removin my foot from ya ass know that’s that screwed my Nike up |
| Like Ruben I’m uhh, «Sorry» for my rap presence in the game bein Derrty |
| Now I rock 'til two-thousand-forty |
| Last call for that Bacardi |
| It be me bein corny on TV with Barbies, think some girls in Cali saw me |
| Cause I’m a flyer individual while hire individuals |
| I’ll fire individuals, I’m critical |
| A King (King) named Jacob (Jacob) |
| Me, Murph Durph make missies poke end up in mini-skirts |
| Game shooter, high poster, aim through the |
| Center of the frame, we Derrty-ly Entertain |
| For you nosy, you nosy muh’fuckers, barbershop-ass niggas |
| Yo, aiyyo Timb' boots, starch jeans, brand new, white tee |
| Hundred dollar button on, mo' colors than Ice-T |
| Haters didn’t like me, «School Daze» like Spike Lee |
| Now most likely like Mike Tyson they bite me |
| Dressed just like me, dreads just like me |
| Nine times out of ten they more fruity than Hi-C |
| Gon' head and bite him then, offer that fool a Heinekin |
| Claimin that he tighter then, don’t add up so I’m minus’in |
| Always in her vagina when under blankets like Linus man |
| (Why?) Cause I da man and all royal My Highness and |
| Rolls truck, turkey leather seats with a hole in it |
| Beef-brown woodgrain, pork didn’t go with it |
| Fish tank in the trunk, chickenhead on my lap |
| Even King Jacob, now he gettin head in the back |
| Hoes, clothes, automo’s, smokin 'dro, all I know |
| All them questions leave 'em on the other side of the MO |
| We gon' stomp down the club flo', stomp down the punk ho |
| Stuck coast-to-coast niggas slump from the steel-toe |
| Write me a stomp rhyme, beat down and stomp mines |
| Beat a punk nigga to the flo' and you know it’s stomp time |
| Fuck a two-step, like a band march |
| On the good foot, for your hood boy |
| Church better recognize, Mr. Prentiss for president |
| Bitches better pay ya ties, we keep a rappin veteran |
| Derrty knockin let me in, known for kickin the door dawg |
| Think that you better niggas show me, let’s have a stomp-off |
| Go hard, stack your cheese up until you can’t see the sky |
| Haters be hatin, love to hate me but wanna be this guy |
| Catch him at his foul play, hawk him like a hallway |
| Chalk him and mash him, happens often, matter fact, all day |
| Haters can’t stand us, stomp if ya cash up |
| Hoes twist that ass up, now stomp — c’mon, faster |