Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nothin' But Business, artist - Slaine. Album song The Boston Project, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.04.2013
Record label: Suburban Noize
Song language: English
Nothin' But Business |
Microphone check 1, 2, what is this? |
Microphone check 1, 2, what is this? |
YEAH! |
I’m the stage crasher |
High out my mind at the rave bastard |
Despised by the mass-media call the gay basher |
Every statement that I make stays for days after |
Internet pussies LOLin with the brave laughter |
Some backpacker try an battle me i’ll slap ya |
This me, This is how I had ta be, I mean it has ta |
Every minute I’m alive is an obscene disaster |
I like the dark, it’s in my heart, fuck a greener pasture |
I’m withdrawn from all the fucking shit I’m on |
Living wrong, hear my hatred seep through every bitter song |
Sleep on me, you’re a sheep, you’re a coward, I’m a creep |
Hold a blade to your neck, shove it in deep |
My records runnin' the streets, reckless son of a beach, punned up freak |
Only dealin' G’s that’s my steez, I make a hundred a week |
Dime pieces suck me 'til I come in the cheek, under the sheets |
Dumb as they can be they call it ignorance, it’s money to me |
Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me |
I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me |
Microphone check 1, 2, what is this? |
You can take it personal it’s nothing but business |
A little weed smoke, and some liquor |
Throw your motherfucking hands in the air |
We got a eight ball and some bitches |
Put your motherfucking hands in the air |
Wow, lost in the high wave |
Amber Rose smirnoff shots top with high grain |
Two hoes they tops exposed low grade |
C’s D’s and ass with a pro rate |
You playin' a probate, lockin her to the home |
I’m letting her live the porn way, she locked to a bone |
I’m menage in my home, you moist palm and grown |
With your wife in the next room playing BR’s songs |
You playing all wrong, she ain’t paying the coaches salary |
Can’t be Mickey and Mallory no more |
Just pimpin' at my home with a flat in Cabo |
They fax my next flow, flip text with escrows, so pass the XO |
I’m drunk and it doesn’t bother me |
Since I ain’t living in poverty no more |
This the panoramic roof with the two tone flow |
And I don’t need to know shit if I do know dough |
So |
Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me |
I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me |
Microphone check 1, 2, what is this? |
You can take it personal it’s nothing but business |
A little weed smoke, and some liquor |
Throw your motherfucking hands in the air |
We got a eight ball and some bitches |
Put your motherfucking hands in the air |
Who’s nastier?, No one spit the news raspier |
I’ll chew half of ya |
My crews after you, Massacre |
In the street making cake flip, No spatula |
Passenger, In the acura with a after puff |
Laughing, But ain’t nothing funny but the money |
I’m hungry, You give me counterfeit you take it from me |
I throw your ass off a fucking bridge and cut the bungees |
Spit a lungie from my tummy on your corpse you fucking dummy |
If you do survive you be looking like the mummy |
The new Hefner, turn your bitch into my bunny |
Pour some gin for me, Patrone second round |
Grey Goose 80 proof mix it up, Put it down |
Ahh throw your hands up, throw your grands up |
Get your man smacked just for tryin to hand cuff |
Get a damn slut to get my glands buffed in my man’s truck |
On the camera, that’s the plan it’s your man Knuck |
Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me |
I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me |
Microphone check 1, 2, what is this? |
You can take it personal it’s nothing but business |
A little weed smoke, and some liquor |
Throw your motherfucking hands in the air |
We got a eight ball and some bitches |
Put your motherfucking hands in the air |