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Proof - Текст песни Westwood Freestyle
yo flash back to my forgotten past
 high off my rockin hash
 i put my face inside a stocking mask
 i put a gun in a purse 
 and run in a church 
 rob a piece one and the first
 to come with the worst
 now for a piece a bit scarier
 than a pit terrior
 camoufalge an assassin's well lit area
 i'ma die at the flesh 
 conducting your death 
 killing that bitch ass noise just thumping my chest,yo
 when your dad come blast a magnum and rob 'em
 call him a tigeress(?) psychiatrist with problems
 i need help and i'm ready to leave hell
 having deep felt nightmares and still sleep well
 i'm the beginning like sex and sperm
 seduced by ??
 and affects his germ
 a lesson learned
 with these stress filled nerves
 stand in hell but naked while my fesh just burns
 to the bone
 don't stop when it's on Proof - Westwood Freestyle - http://ru.motolyrics.com/proof/westwood-freestyle-lyrics.html
 microphones without the metradome
 watch me stretch your dome
 easily it's done D12 we do this we flow like water
slaughter your grandaughter
 you can't end this particular brand water 
 vehicler man slaughter
 my dick's in your grandaughter
 i'm back to tell y'all 
 how we spell y'all
 expell these D12 one-to-the-dozen
 slim shade made good 
 came back in hood
 i almost messed up on my and slurred to the judge
 said i don't care about your court room
 i snort shrooms
 yeah i crush em up like motrin(?)
 devoting
 tear your life abortion
 a portion of my freestyle brain cells
 make it rain hell 
 and tim westwood 
 put your best foot 
 forward and get fucked up by this clique
 it's d12 and we make more noise than hell!!











