Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Set It On Fire, artist - Tony Touch. Album song The Piece Maker, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.04.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tommy Boy
Song language: English
Set It On Fire |
Rock Marcy, so stop spreddin out malarchy |
My rap anarchy, blaze more wigs than Barbara Sharpsee |
I’m a freakers army? |
Savage ya type, like Chaka Zulo, papi chulo |
Not to be sulo, wilder than Kujo, you actin fool yo |
Come on, swing 'em like a two-way, back to school |
Rulership shit, bring them the newest, Tony Touch 'em, I fuck 'em |
This fool, who can fuck with his dude |
Check what the butler, I cut his ass up, somethin disgusting kid |
My custom is, government cheese, chumpin them steez |
Who’s a monkey wrench, jumpin machines get in between, so it seem |
It’ll only cause a moment of scream |
The super seed what I be sayin is like a king on his knees |
I never fall, cuz the ring on my paw plead forgiveness |
Loot for rightness, superstitious, bazooka hit his ass out |
Break a suspicious, three sixes of cum |
Anti religious, kill em off on the first try |
Flipmode Squad, there is none higher |
You bitch ass niggas, should call Messiah |
We won’t stop rockin, until we retire |
Let’s blow the spot and set the muthafucka on fire |
Aiyo let’s turn the heat up (and set it on fire!) |
Let’s bring the noise my nigga (and set it on fire!) |
And what the fuck ya niggas wanna do (and set it on fire!) |
Go get the gas and the matches (and set it on fire!) |
Ya niggas in the game, ya ain’t go no press |
Yo I go to Hillside and cop a V from Less |
Me and Flip on the lot, in the green G. S |
Leathers is out, rims yo they be B. S |
T.V.'s in the dash, watchin C.B.S |
Later on watch the Knicks on T.B.S |
Rampage I’m the nigga, no second guess |
Yo my beeper goes off, it’s them shorties from out West |
Call them back, hit them off on street jack |
I let 'em know, how this real nigga polly that |
I’m in my car yo, them honies in the Pontiac |
How I dress, how I hustle, where the money at? |
They love my rings, my watch, how I flooded that |
Put that on my eggs and toast and just butter that |
Flipmode, Tony Touch, son double that |
Fuck around, shit gon double plat' |
Analyze the flavor, we bout to blaze ya, every move is major |
Major paper, office space up in the skyscraper |
Niggas on my crew dick, and need to get down |
Frown, from when your crew was just a major let down |
Official, sparkerly clear just like a glass crystal |
Blast a pistol, that’s when ya start to hear my missile whistle |
Jesus, pledge of allegiance to the sole prestigious |
With the antitote to make ya wanna bust ya heaters |
Release this, I hope ya know that we about to freak this |
Fuck discreteness, analyze every nigga weakness |
Cut ya face up, then fuck the place up |
Pass the L, without the coca lace up, let’s pick the pace up |
Stick the place up, then shake up, then click ya base up |
Wrong move, we puncture everything from ya waist up |
Blow the space up, while ya gaspin off ransom |
Then get the dough and put an expansion on my mansion |
First and only female here to play my position |
Make it hotter than the projects with no air conditioning |
Honey petite, walk around with the screwface |
Dip from the whip, on down to my shoelace |
Can’t see us, mommy sippin San Greas |
Shotgun style will open up ya pancreas |
Puff remix, hittin sponsor for free kicks |
Bootleg ya shit with me spittin on the remix |
Type shit like doin shows with a blind fold |
Voicey Q. will blow a circuit out ya console |
Fuckin wit how I spit, ain’t gonna paper |
Black hoody tight wit a teeny bit of makeup |
No need to brag, my legislate speak |
Nine nine dig the time to shine like Memph Bleek |
Crown and half sheet, my white label leak |
Tellin MC’s to count eight weeks and say peace |
Ok, you wanna make a million fuckin dollars? |
Ok, I tell Tony Touch to put out a fuckin mixtape |
A mill here, a mill there |
In fuckin 10 years, we fuckin buy this whole fuckin place, puto. |