Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Last Call (Radio), artist - Ol' Dirty Bastard. Date of issue: 28.04.2014
Song language: English
Last Call (Radio) |
| This recordin is Dirty and it’s Stinkin |
| Funkier than Peppi Le Pew so I was thinkin, about |
| Droppin this single on the charts, lettin ya know |
| Hey, the kid has heart, I never deny myself as being |
| Dope, but in my last jam, niggas slept on my notes |
| You thought that I was weak? |
| Huh? |
| Let me speak |
| My rhymes come funkier than ya grandfathers feet |
| So listen mister, don’t you ever forget |
| The rhyme is dirty, you couldn’t even clean it |
| With Comet, for even Wolrex, some tried Ajax |
| Only mix with the best, forty-eight tracks |
| Yo, I get down with the Ason sounds |
| Lyrics that be flowin from miles around |
| So let the music shut ya ass up, then feel the uppercut |
| Now I make ya fall to ya butt |
| Ho-ho-hold up, Master Fool |
| Takin' it on down, jugga-jugga-ju |
| Fall on ya butt, ya ass gon' hurt |
| They call us WINGWORM cuz we mastered this dirt |
| I act like a drunk but I’m out for the dough |
| I mastered the funk, Dirt mastered the ho’s |
| Only Master play the Fool, I worked hard and paid my dues |
| Tony Snatcher played the fool |
| And man meater eater played the bone |
| I come in the club with no ID |
| They gon' have to close the club up messin wit me |
| Up. |
| Dirty and Stinkin stuff |
| It’s that Dirty dick NUH with the Stinkin nuts |
| Last Call now drink it up |
| Me and Dirt want a pound for some Stinkin stuff |
| Last Call for alcohol, everybody out the bar |
| Get ya back up off the wall |
| People. |
| ohh. |
| ohh. |
| people. |
| ohh. |
| ohh |
| Yo, let me continue, verse number two |
| Style is wild, dirty and stinkin like doo-doo |
| If ya hangin around, ya changed ya mind |
| It is a bad influence, but yo it’s my rhyme |
| I sit down and I say to myself, «Self |
| Yo, are you rated top the shelf?» |
| I drop the single for you to get a dose of |
| As I lay back like a pillow on a sofa |
| Gettin paid? |
| Yeah right, Willy |
| Why askin me, G? |
| What? |
| What? |
| What? |
| What? |
| You know me |
| My mouth is sugar, sweet as a honey bee |
| Taste like a forty, Stinkin like Old-E |
| Fool in this bitch, where the fuck is the drinks? |
| No open bar!?! |
| Where the fuck is the drinks? |
| That bitch over there with her man tuckin his link |
| All strip club bitches straight clutchin his mink |
| Niggas official, big guns, wavin the pistol |
| My dogs lookin for the brew now we bitin the gristle |
| (Stop fuckin with them guns son you playin too much) |
| Catch a charge drinkin bro', I ain’t playin too rough |
| Fucks! |
| Lay in the cuts and hug the butts |
| Grab a big five whether you a scrub or not |
| Robbery, robbery, pop, pop, poppin like a Glock |
| Robbery, robbery, drop, drop, drop it like it’s hot |
| Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo |
| Heard Master singin that shit? |
| Stinkin blue Palmaid. |
| Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo. |