Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ignorance, artist - V Don.
Date of issue: 05.11.2015
Song language: English
Ignorance |
Uh, they tell me ignorance is bliss |
But who the fuck this ignant' nigga is? |
That’s Nasty baby bitch, I’m on that ignant' nigga shit |
And if a nigga bitch with it I’ll be in the crib hittin' |
Couch-side eatin' popcorn with my socks on |
40-cal, drink in my hand, bumpin' a 'Pac song |
Say that shit that’s bogus and you niggas know it |
Hey nigga quit your Hocus Pocus you belong in circus |
How you clown rappers 'posed to shine when the lights is broken? |
I find your circuit breaker open, I decide to blow it |
Uh, you rappers ain’t spitters anyway |
I’ll splatter your favorite rapper and kill him any day |
I say that shit with plenty save |
I’m a dog my nigga and I’ve seen plenty days |
I have my days my nigga |
But I’m still stuck up in my ways my nigga, I never change |
Nasty baby crack in the sack '90s nigga |
I never change, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby |
Ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby |
This ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby |
I never change, you rappers ain’t spitters anyways |
Ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby |
I have my days my nigga |
But I’m still stuck up in my ways my nigga, I never change |
They tell me ignorance is bliss, but who the fuck is ignant'? |
That’s looney gangster Mac-11, what’s the quickest path to heaven? |
Xanax or this .357 that’s my only question |
I’m on the edge of a refill |
Thinkin: if these drugs don’t get me then the streets will |
No big deal |
I ain’t new to the bodies droppin' for cheap thrills |
Riddin' since the Big Wheels, with the hot fries |
Them Hush Puppies, no, we cross t’s and dot i’s |
You cross lines, your knots bigger than Popeyes |
Make you slap the taste out your momma mouth |
Think twice 'fore you look once |
I pop-pop pa pop-pop, them brains turn to fruit punch |
I’m in that bag again, Mini Van Damme man |
Con man’s jumpin' out the body-bag they had me in |
How you kill a killer? |
I’m a lil killer |
Meets Curtis Jackson, a lil dealer, nigga ain’t nothin' iller |
I spit in your shades, red rag wrapped on my face |
Tec on the waist, a couple pints stashed in the safe |
Since free lunch had them brown bags stacked for the case |
I said I would change, I guess I’m just stuck in my ways |
Mini Van Damme, that’s looney gangster Mac-11 |
Mini Van, looney gangster Mac-11 |
I’m in that bag again, that’s looney gangster Mac-11 |
Drugs don’t get me then the streets will |
I’m on the edge of a refill, red rag wrapped on my face |
Tec on the waist, I’m on the edge of a refill, Mini Van Damme |