Lyrics Take That - Styles of Beyond

Take That - Styles of Beyond
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Take That, artist - Styles of Beyond. Album song Reseda Beach, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.10.2012
Record label: Tokyo Sex Whale
Song language: English

Take That

Verse 1
Better call them coppers quick
You don’t wanna hear them choppers spit
Run up on em with a black component
Crack his dome for talking shit
Who the fuck he think he is?
I don’t know but he runs his lips
I’m gonna get em in a minute gonna put em in a little bitty box and tounge his
bitch
And I mean it
What I mean is
On the beat I’m a demon breathin
Red Dragon yup saggin dog from my pants to my penis
Extremist
When I’m the move better move and duck sucker
Be cool
Them Demigoons don’t give a fuck fucker
What about that dough you got?
What about that Rov you bought?
If anybody wanna bet you ballin bitch I’m all in no you not
Uh uh
I swear it
Your broke it’s
Apparent
Them S.O.B.s beastin the beat and I’m incoherent
Embarrassd, out smoked your parents can barely bare it
Their only son is a joke compared to the ranch he’s a carrot
A parrot mockin my sinister style with a Mary Poppins
All you hear is me cockin it back and it’s ch ch ch POW!
Chorus x2
Take that
Get the mask
Take that
Take the cash
Come and get ya face slapped
Yea boy ima bust that ass
Verse 2
Yea
When I get my hands up on this weapon best believe there’s mayhem
Taxodermy, wax a birdie, bully in this play pen
Zip his belly button to his face In position with the tanks
Gotta mention K-9 sniff em by the lakes
Whoa!
Supersonic, doo doo vomit, get ya fuckin crew demolished
See I grew my roots in music while you hoola hoop through college
Better wear some protective gear they don’t care bout ya record here
And if they do we wish you luck
Whoopdy whoop
Squish his guts
You don’t wanna get ya back sweaty put em in a jar and twist a limb
Slain with a red and black machete
Poor little boy was just a kid
Spread the news, tell a partner
Yea this beat is hella proper
Servin these stupid vermont
And ship em back to hell with out them
It’s a rap, sew his tissue, tell the ref to blow the whistle
Stash his helmet in his locker with a super soaker pistol
Get the missle
Get the gun
You don’t wanna see me one on one
Pick the mission here we come
In position what you want?
Chorus

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Artist lyrics: Styles of Beyond