Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Foundation, 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
The Foundation |
When there’s beef whoo I come through with the cray troops |
Rip up your fucking legs turn them jeans to daisy dukes |
Spray your trucks, spray your coops, spray your Kawasaki bikes |
Starting hockey fights — Tyson lefts Rocky rights |
Your moms a khaki dyke, your father dress in drag |
Stick out his chest and brag how he molest a fag |
Like father like son |
Bet you rock Victoria Sec’s sit on the toilet then leak |
And take it raw up your cheeks |
Tonight I might just take a buddha spot |
Dread better take me to the pot |
Ain’t no killer I just shoot a lot |
I ain’t no boxer I just punch a lot |
Jabbing niggas in they belly’s got them spitting up they lunch alot |
Fuck a Merry Christmas |
Yo thats the terror day |
My father was murdered that night so I don’t celebrate |
If santa hit my chimney with them bozo clothes |
Ima make the .44 blow |
Fill his fat ass full of holes holes holes |
Why you play |
Knowing that my style is Y2K |
You can die today |
Nigga there’s a price to pay |
Fight for game |
We could bounce from night to day |
Cause only one of us is leaving alive, ok? |
Who wanna wrestle Chris a.k.a. Pun the exorcist |
Your neck can twist like an owl |
When I piledrive its effortless |
Who next to get suplexed off the roof ledge |
20 feet in the ground |
Pass the blueprints |
Life’s long |
But cut it off short trying to fight strong |
You soft think you can handle the force of the 24 inch pythons |
Strike one, I cut out your eyes and leave you Ray Charles |
Strike two, you outta here nigga, this ain’t baseball |
It’s hardcore — for my street rapping outlaws |
Quick to clap something |
But rather go out with the South Force |
South Bronx niggas got it tone |
I shoved the shotty chrome up a nigga ass |
Like a motherfucking maricon cause daddy’s home |
Kids, don’t make me lie to you |
Cause everybody can die right now, Mommy too |
Aiyyo I respect ho’s who scam food stamps, wics and shit |
Also work a nine-to-five driving whips and shit |
Gasing niggas for their chips and shit |
?? |
laps tops getting over on some offense em shit |
You might think I be promoting this songs here for the selling |
How we live |
Some work, some are career felons |
We laugh at house-a-dity ho’s and niggas geling not conceded |
But Ill show you the feist that reduce the swelling |
When my moneys involved, yo anybody’s for the snaking |
Some niggas who may think is yo fams, the ones thats faking |
Lemme find out, dadd’ys stealin my bacon |
You see me pull a .9 and start poppin like I’m Turbo from «Breakin'» |
I had that cat folding, rolling aces no faking |
Talk this, dump him in the furnace in the basement |
With no traces |
Im a hit em first then pay off a witness to spit a verse |
To get rid of his dental work |
Do ya’ll niggas think it will work |
Well ima make ya’ll believers cause |
I’ll be damned cuz moneys comin up short like the Keeblers |
I make ya’ll feel in some breathers |
See Sherrif with the heaters |
Six in your piece |
Leave the shells line your toes like Adidas |
This nigga is off the meters |
Yrical Glocks, gunnin dem down |
Too many Big and Pacs running around |
Its just me and the 400 pound |
Sunkiss with original sounds |
Repping the Bronx, huh |
You know we mean now |