Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Riggs & Murtaugh, artist - Action Bronson. Date of issue: 23.04.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Riggs & Murtaugh |
| Seven survivors sire, record was set afire |
| Jealous envious liars, paper, pencil supplied a |
| Tempo ammo and he handle any vandal vying |
| Against my tribe of scribers do or die writing for lifers |
| This is orange bearded Bronson magnet shorties think I’m Spanish |
| We never rocking sandals. |
| You see me copping pandas |
| The drums are heaven paired with lamb encrusted mustard sauce |
| I’m done with salmon every time they came the drugs were tossed |
| World revolves, cycles turn, psychos turn pill poppers |
| Suicidal wheel riders, skill harkers, architect the thought |
| Of dark to prosper Oscar for thespian talkers |
| Action and Reks equals bonkers bars— MFing monsters |
| Yes, sir. |
| Tantric positions with his wifey on the baby bed |
| Blatant disrespect |
| Root of evil on cassette |
| Eating seasonal and fresh. |
| Leaving semen on the chest |
| The young Morgan Freeman people skiing on the vest |
| Yeah. |
| Live from the bully pulpit—where we Geppetto, puppets |
| Your nose is growing hold you’ll be showing as soft as smut is |
| Without the pussy showing penetration generation renovation |
| Destroy, rebuild: innovation. |
| Ink a statement on your cranium |
| Painting steeples and stadiums, scrapings and shading them |
| Success colors I’m braving sun. |
| Faded lungs, polluted kidney |
| I’m due to kick the bucket young. |
| Fuck it— flung a finger, let ‘em all come |
| Got all women making plaster twisting naturals this is practice |
| Tempurpedic mattress, pussy like a catfish |
| She like it backwards. |
| Many passengers have passed through |
| She getting ran through quick wit slurping the cash in my grip whip |
| Got a sick clique known to nibble on a bitch tit |
| Hear the silence then a click click, no alliance peace to big vick |
| Word to science, only your salmon is a pink slit |
| And fuck the diamonds—slice up the cheeses with the string shit |
| Get your crucifixes ruthless lyrics from booth’s truest lyricists |
| Is this is vantage business bar business penny chasing channels face it |
| Fingers clink and it’s great. |
| Make men flinch; |
| look— |
| Slaves to my rhyme book— shook |
| Y’all Girl Scout cookie pushing talking crooked yellow spine rhyme |
| Mob of shook ones, how you find time to be pitching and be scripting |
| To be robbing and be jotting to be spitting and be plotting |
| Your two cents don’t make a dime |