Advertentie
Advertentie
Details
- Akkoorden
- Toonsoort
- G♯ₘ
- bpm
- 91
- Genre
- Hip hopSouthern hip hop
- Artiest
- jam sessies
- 27
- Jaar van uitgave
- 1995
- Laatst gewijzigd
- 28 oktober 2018
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Goodie Bag Akkoorden
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tempo - G♯ₘ
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Put some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed'Cause', you know me, givin' me left hand dapP-funk be ridin' shot gun escort your window broke out sonA cool breeze got my lips chap, mornin' slap someSoul in my bread basket gap contain "x" marks the spotTwain, o.c. the cut layin'A stew of empty gas in my tankA buck thirty lookin' ugly think, but it ain't gonna stop no showOl' burd puttin a buzz in you ear"It's gonna snow" or maybe perhaps sleetRap up the beat outside barely made it to your wakeLookin' like Mr. fisher, dickie down no suit, no tieNiggas ain't gonna be able to just get by no mo'You leavin' the hotel 254Today was good to me, I went to the GoodwillWith the ten dollar bill, got that London Fog out the back paid the manMe and Khujo and T-Boo, three jack lumbersOn the loose, cut your ass Lo like CeeBe under the water, half these figures around me be hollering NewtNow what the fuck has this politician did for youComplain, complain but Mr. Clampett ain't gon' changeJust rib your ass up just to gut your pockets outI heard Bill put two G's up for some folksThat they found in they house beat up and I don't discussThat color scheme that they fall onCause the scheme that they fall on don't match with my toneSee, I wonder will I walk the streets in 1995And not have to make bond from 254, uhWill somebody please turn the lights on 166I can't see where the fuck I'm goingI can't do shit but get madI can't keep get Billie and his uncle out my fucking Goodie BagWithout your shank you can't thankWithout your niggas you up the creek, stank with a ass fool of oreTaking what I say for what it's worth, it don't matterCause how I feel might be triggered from thoughts I had in the pastNow I struggle to reach the sky why try so hardIf all I'mma get is spit on cause life at the bottom ain't hitting on shitBut some of these folks is gettin richI know about mines, unwind, can't take at times going throughThe same drama that got me here in this state of mindRed-hot in the summer timeFirst of all, I stand a little more than five feet tallBut we can still brawl nigga, I ain't scared at allI guess you niggas don't know or can't seeThat it ain't even wise stepping to me incorrectlyBut yet still when nigga's feel they can dealI will split your ass up for real, cause we the maniacsWith the chunky goodie sac's, so I don't carry an axBut I still swing low with the lumber jaxTracks are being made by Organo-I-Z-EWhy we cooling in the shadeAin't getting paid for chilling, illing, willingTo do what I got to do to come thru your speakerCee-Lo, he will never come weakerUniquer than a lot of MC's out todayBecause I'm more than careful about what I sayWhen I pick up a microphone it's onThem better leave me alone, I'm in my zoneProne to snap if you offer me a chanceLike it when them chunky hoes can dance, I'll enhanceThe microphone when it's in my grip, I do not slipI can't forget my nigga's Jo, T-Mo, and GippHa-ha-ha, well Great Scott, is he a thief?It seems like he has a mouth full of gold teethI smile, because your eyes can't take the glareBut Cee-Lo, him don't care, I cut off all my hairAnd everybody stop and stare when we come in the placeAnd I can get on the mic with no time to wasteGet right up in your face, kick the flavor you tasteAnd when I'm on the microphone, it's a damn disgraceHow you don't comprehend what I'm saying to youAnd I'm the C, the double E from the Goodie Mo CrewI'm coming thru, I'm coming true, ooh, I can't even stopIt's Cee-Lo B, I'm down with that nigga pop, pop, popAnd my nigga Mike L, and Bert PAnd my nigga Pretty Ken, you know he down with meWe from Atlanta, G-A, that is where we stayI'm digging all in the Goodie Bag each and every dayOoh shit!Put some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedPut some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedPut some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedPut some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedPut some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedPut some fire on that ass end of dat weedCause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleedLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind | Door: CAMERON F. GIPP, PATRICK L. BROWN, RAYMON AMEER MURRAY, RICO RENARD WADE, ROBERT TERRANCE BARNETT, THOMAS DECARLO BURTON, WILLIE EDWARD KNIGHTON | Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Exploration Group LLC
Lyrics
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