Pharoahe Monch

Текст песни Simon Says

Simon Says видео клип

Pharoahe Monch
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Композитор:
  • Troy Donald Jamerson
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  • Hip-Hop
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  • hiphop
  • pharoahe monch
  • rap
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Pharoahe Monch - Текст песни Simon Says

F/ Busta Rhymes, Lady Luck, Method Man, Redman, Shabaam Sahdeeq

[Pharoahe Monch]

GET THE FUCK UP!

Simon says "GET THE FUCK UP!"

Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

Queens is in the back sippin 'Gnac, y'all wassup?

Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)

Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties

New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty

In the midst of the calm, the witty

[Lady Luck]

Yo SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Luck said "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Bitches in the back, like crack get it cut up

I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up

Act like a man and get cocked, smacked or fucked up

Pull the truck up, Luck you know the name

Assed out in the bleachers stay shittin on the game

I suppose what you're spittin is flames, cowards

Know your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder

Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill

Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill

Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill

Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real

[Pharoahe Monch]

WHAT THE FUCK'S goin on here, just a minute now, hold up

Sinister wit hit the time I diminish him finish him, roll up

When I'm, ? cinematography state of mind

My rap trip, rip, clip, say the rhyme

Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches venacular

Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the Immaculate

Binaca blast nigga that's fast, son I'll box ya

Ladies rub the ta-ta's, bras, titties and knockers on the floor

OWWW! Fellas pull ya cock out

On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out

Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers

Dust crush competition, lights out like the Clapper

The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave

Separate him from him from his fam, he don't know how to behave

Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot

Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute

That's seven shots for Tupac

Seven for Biggie Smalls

Seven for Freaky Tah up in your neighborhood malls

How's that, fat action packed rap remain tame

Pharoahe fuckin Monch, ain't a damn thing changed

[Redman]

Yo yo get the fuck up

Funk Doctor Spot said "Get the fuck up"

I got a bitch named Nina and I tuck her

I leave a nigga hangin like ya mom's muffler

Snuff her, then my boys follow up

Respect like the Fonze, you see the collar up

I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up

I kamikaze ya town off a Arab bus

Karat cut, yeah mami pull over

I bend ya pussy like for years I knew yoga

I'm too smoked up, I can't remember me

Off Hennesy, that's why I carry Mini-Me

I need fifty feet when my performance starts

I push a armored car wit ?Lauren Harts?

Nineteen inches, I'm not on the charts

Doc turnin dark off a warning shot

Drive off and pop, six in ya hood

[Monch] Fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods

Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme you fold over

I'm hot-headed cuz I walk wit cold shoulders

Yeah GET THE FUCK UP!

[Pharoahe Monch]

Simon Says "GET THE FUCK UP!"

Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

[Redman]

Jersey in the back jackin cars now wassup!

Girls, rub on ya titties

(Yeah) That's right I said it, rub on ya titties
Pharoahe Monch - Simon Says - http://ru.motolyrics.com/pharoahe-monch/simon-says-lyrics.html
Brick City gritty committee

Pity the fool that act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

[Method Man]

Yo yo get the fuck up

Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck up

Walk through Shaolin after dark, you get stuck up

Seek and destroy, baddest boy when I'm puffed up

Ya know my name, and Pharoahe Moch, why we came what?

We off the chain, plus we plottin on the chain, what?

Know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold

And you and your mic can ease on down the road

Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one

Shootin in the sky tryin to blast sun

Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one

Fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a passion

Mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashion

Your plaid, I'm stripes, together we be flashin

Here's a Tunnel banger

Wu-Tang death penalty, the gas chamber

This gon' hurt me more than it hurts you

Slap ya like the doctor the day your momma birthed you

Just so you can feel me

The same way I'ma feel this world when it kill me

Even if time stands still, I'ma still be

Underground and filthy, gotta have our Way like the Milky

Innocent until I'm proven guilty

Never got caught in the game of tag

Momma never kept a boyfriend wit kids this bad

No justice, RAIDER RUCKUS!

Underground till we under ground

But y'all first MOTHAFUCKERS!

[Shabaam Sahdeeq]

My thugs, throw up ya set

And shorties rub on ya breasts

GET THE FUCK UP, outta that dress, I palm tits

You herbs get flipped like jeeps on mountain cliffs

I'll rip through your chest, hollow-point talent tips

Double-S, double the threat, double your bet

Double up on that cash if you decide to invest

You sound like Big, you sound like Jay, you sound like D

And I bet, when I go plat, you'll sound like me

Shabaam Sahdeeq, injure your fleet into delete

Y'all crabs are weak, frail like a fiend's physique

I stay on the street, stay on the beat, stay wit the heat

Stay stickin fools like you for the rocks that gleam

So toss that link, dummy, shoulda insured that link

Straight to Canal I'll praise that link, then pawn that link

You froze up, Sahdeeq says "Shut the fuck up!"

Punk niggas get gun-butt up and tied up

[Busta Rhymes]

Busta Rhymes is like Hacksaw Jim Dugan

Been thuggin, lovin the way we flood jewels for nothin

Lay it over, another ambush we take over

Yo we don't only get money, we cut the coke and cook the shake over

You better guard your head right, especially if it's late at night

Or find your picture of your autoposy up on the web site

Yo if you ever violate my space

Fuck a fat lip, I'll leave you wit a fuckin fat face

Nigga, Busta Rhymes the handsome, I'll hold you for ransom ansom

Like the ghost in a haunted house, I'll forever live in a mansion

Bitches, snitches comin out and you know who's showin it

Like when British civil servants pass secrets to the Soviets

Y'all niggas is seemless blends of seemless friends

Live on about ? ? on a bunch of seamless ends

Collosal, me and my nigga Pharoahe Moncho

The head honcho, gettin this money like Leonardo (do do do)

Enough substance in the roughness

Now watch it come around in an amazing large abundance

Now let me clear the smoke screen you blow fiend

Live nigga shit that'll rebuild your whole self-esteem

Pledge allegiance to the flag of united live niggas of America

Let us control and own the fuckin area

Wildin in your whip until your crash the whole truck up

And if you know what's good for you nigga you better GET THE FUCK UP!!!

Hehehe

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Тексты песен альбома "Internal Affairs"

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