Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I Got A Seecret , by - Redman. Release date: 31.12.1997
Song language: English
I Got A Seecret |
| Damn |
| Ladies. |
| and gentlemen |
| I got a secret |
| Somebody told me yo’ass stink! |
| Don’t blame me! |
| Hah, what, huh. |
| Ah, one two three four |
| Huh, huh, yo Huh, yo yo yo yo yo yo |
| (c'mere baby) |
| Yo, yo yo, yo yo, yo Yo huh |
| Yeah yi-yeah, these metaphors be broad |
| Take the Shanks out of Shaw Redemption and hold it to your jaw |
| Climb aboard, jump out the ninety-ninth floor |
| That bitch on the salt box, know when I rain I pour |
| Shoot up the Mardi Gras with double chrome forty-fours |
| Full up plates, cause someone I’m ready to take yours! |
| Jungle music got my mind and body stimulatin |
| Hyperventilatin, you’re talk of the town like date rapin |
| Call me the Doc-casian Spot, The Beatles |
| Malfunction in the SL Board without the EQ |
| Fuck fuck fuck bitch I’ll bust a nut all over that gut |
| Buck buck buck souflee you lay you then I’m hittin that clutch |
| in da black truck, what, fuck yo’back up My dubs be filled with dust when I bust you definitely feel |
| the rapture. |
| ha ha. |
| HA HAH. |
| HA HAH! |
| Aiyyo! |
| Feel what I feel, see what I see son |
| Break your neck -- secretly blown, talico style Doc |
| Trace the sketch -- according to verbal recording hot |
| Bricks underground detox fuck up farm crops |
| Yo beautiful! |
| Cut the cabbage and sell it as pharmeceuticals |
| I react — the baddest juvenile bite off his cuticles |
| I’m stone, to the bone, flip poems that roam further |
| I serve the murder then beef it to ham-burger |
| Knowin god damn well that’s hard to spit |
| Fans call me mix tape arsonist, marvelous, in the hood |
| Everyday, wanna star? |
| Check an astrologist |
| Fuck fuck fuck bitch I’ll bust a nut all over that gut |
| Buck buck buck souflee you lay you then I’m hittin that clutch |
| You know, papi chulo with the fucked up grammar |
| So much spanish ass, niggaz think I own Copa Cabana |
| Shot up Santa, got more tools than, Hanna Barbera, check it The clues I left was hard for cops to Etch-a-Sketch it Serial killer that tracks pussy in every borough |
| Kidnap ya, tie ya down, drug ya, kiss the girls |
| Klack automatics no matter the pressure the static (KLACK) |
| I blow you by two miles, cut my lights and hit the hazards |
| Fatal, duckin from pussy police in LeSables |
| Biggest thing since getting earrings pierced in your navel |
| High, Funk Doc, Roni Size keep the herb twistin |
| And now get the Ampegs real hot like jerk chicken |
| Ha ha. |
| alright one more time. |
| (c'mere baby) |