Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yellow Snow, artist - Ras Kass. Album song ChristMESS, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.12.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cre8yte
Song language: English
Yellow Snow |
Black Friday, that’s why, they camping out at Walmart |
Pepper spraying old ladies just to buy a xbox |
Cyber Monday, online |
Copped about a dozen ball caps, fitted hats, beanies, and snap backs |
'Tis the season to get wasted |
Moms in the kitchen, I sneak in and taste it |
Feliz navidad, she makin' tamales |
So deck the hall with boughs of holly |
Doc Hollywood gigs, they DJin' parties |
Mrs Claus in stripper heals, she playin' naughty |
My belt buckle made of mistletoe |
So give a kiss below and my dick will grow |
Ho… Ho… Ho… Ho Ho Ho |
Hollywood girls like clubs full of snow |
Red nose, from sniffin' all the blow |
Call’em Rudolph, get laid on my North Pole |
Now sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want |
Just make it quick while Santa smokin' on this honk |
My flow nasty, kinda like fruitcake |
Let’s celebrate, I got a dreidel in my suitcase |
Happy Hanukkah, word to Harvey Levin |
Cause I’m on fire, like menorahs on day seven |
And rappers are in danger, call they Suge Knight |
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night |
Never been to Big Bear but the only thing I know |
Yo! |
Don’t eat the yellow snow! |
Lakeshore Christmas purp and yellow |
Yo! |
Don’t eat the yellow snow! |
They ski in Hollywood with a nose full of blow |
But Yo! |
Don’t eat the yellow snow! |
Never been to Big Bear and I’ll probably never go |
But Yo! |
Don’t eat the yellow snow! |
At ninety degrees in Cali, ain’t no throwin' snow balls |
Catch me at the liquor store buyin 40s like ole dog |
Yo dog! |
Move to Calabasas? |
Fo sho dog! |
Only black nigga in town like Cleveland in Quahog |
I don’t celebrate Christmas, don’t expect shit |
But Moms usually give me something, I damn sure accept it |
Mainly the season is trife, spendin' money on shit you can’t afford |
Buying things for people you don’t like |
Fourth quarter, music industry shut down |
Big dogs droppin' albums, livin' it up now |
Bitches like the snowman, nose all frosty |
Fine as fuck except for the coke bugger that accosted me |
Christmas eve, back found myself in Times Square |
Randomly ran in to this Filipino dime there |
Swear to God this all true |
I was just strollin' down Broadway |
Tryin to figure out what to do |
Walkin towards each other, she looked so familiar |
Caught eye contact, walked past then I looked back |
We turned around at the same time, We stopped |
She said, «I met you in LA last year, by the way I’m |
Visitin' my sister, but I ain’t got no plans.» |
So we headed to Pete’s tavern and got drunk man |
Next thing you know, we uptown at my apartment |
On the couch she straddled me, cowgirl, it’s poppin' |
Then she started squirtin', man it was somethin' |
Forgot to lock the front door, my Harlem chick, Winter, comes in |
Catches me mid-stroke with this girl I’m fuckin' |
Winter jaw drops but she never says nothin' |
Turns around and walks out the front door without a word |
For real, I’m not frontin' |
And baby never knew cause she was facin' me |
And I was facin' the door, best Christmas in the world |
Merry Christmas to you (x4) |