| Little Red Riding Hood, big dark forest
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| On her way to grammy’s, Goldilocks ate the forest
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| Big Bad Wolf, shit, I could eat a orphan
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| It really ain’t important, spew endorphines while extorting
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| Kick the door in and I storm in like I’m Mighty Morphin'
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| Power Ranger, tatted stranger, bald like Billy Corgan
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| Sitting at a organ, off that girl from Wheel of Fortune
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| Answer me like, «Yes, me Lordsman» I can
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| I admire who? |
| Shit, I admire me
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| Look how fly he be, Vampire Diaries
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| Had to tote the burner, shit, I grew up hella wiry
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| Two fucks fired me? |
| You should’ve never hired me
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| Now I’m up top--hip hop’s new hierarchy
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| I’m like, geez, all I wanted was some anarchy
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| They won’t take me out the game… fucking RG3
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| Now your bitch say my name when I arch my D
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| Li’l Red Riding Hood, big bad violent hood
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| Didn’t have a childhood, didn’t treat a child good
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| Didn’t know a child would grow to be a wild wolf
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| Now viable, maniacal, running wolves, I’m living proof
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| Came home wired, made my mom nervous
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| I’m disconnected like my prior phone service
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| When you’re born on accident, life ain’t have no purpose
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| I woke up 3 o’clock feeling like I’m worthless
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| Drove to Vansterdam, couple candy-coated hearses
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| She playing with her nipples, chocolate-coated Hershey’s
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| But watch out for her kisses… chocolate-coated curses
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| Eyes red, bottoms red, Versace-covered purses
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| Match made in heaven, but this match is versus
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| Kill or be killed, and someone has to nurse this
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| Fuck a million sluts, throw some millions up
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| What? |
| Chameleon trucks? |
| I give a million fucks
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| I soldiered up in civilian guts
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| And when I sober up, I’ll be really clutch
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| Take a bump, let her touch, she gon' really blush
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| Gave her shrooms, pushed her face, now she really mush
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| Nacho
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| I woke up a quarter to 4
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| Bored of the war, hoarder of whores
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| I snorted… a horse. |
| I walked towards the store
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| porch, then I smoked some more
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| Then I smoked some more, my nigga, I’m fucking bored
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| Ran five days late, now, I’m fucking short
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| Import, export… who can I extort?
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| I know an ex-con, he a expert
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| That’s his export, now he own a restaurant
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| He told me «follow your dreams», fuck what the rest want
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| Now I’m in West Palms, chilling like a rest stop
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| With a little red bop, plus she give the best top
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| Sold up like a sweatshop, child out of wedlock
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| Women are from Venus but my penis come from red rock (Mars)
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| The big one, baby… feeling like Redbox
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| Flight to Boston, maybe… run into the Red Sox |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Red Ridinghood, artist - Nacho Picasso. Album song Trances with Wolves (The Prixtape), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп