's uh, I think they're called Blue Death Just one of ten, ten bands that are playing down here at Gutfest this year I think some of the other bands playing
See what happens if you keep talking See what happens if you lay a finger on me motherfucker Yo, see what I'm saying' It's like one big mind game that
But I would've loved to hear A Big Pun and B.I.G. collabo That shit would've been incredible Aye yaknahmsayin', it was just happen We have our day, you
or three cribs stack the mill in the mill Y'all get none of this dough shit y'all fiends stay ill Money stretch like a rubber band, so wrap the grands
March, march, march, march Boomdizzle, baby Way back in 1776 Who would have thought we would have had these chicks Sum kinda slim and some extra thick
he's so fuckin TERRIBLE! Meanwhile his record sells double and triple Cause of you whinin bout him rubbin his nipple Religious? Shit, you helped them bands
wouldn't know shit if it whipped it through your ugly bitch ass face You ain't even begun to experience drama mothafucka Your mamma, your mothafuckin' Big fat chicken
[Intro - Big Kuntry King] P$C Block ENT You know who this is mane, Big Kuntry King C'mon Aye C'mon Aye C'mon [Chorus - Big Kuntry King] I'm in the club
[Kool Keith] This is a message - yeah To all you jheri curl, cats - SOLAR - yknahmsayin? You Chic kids, seventy-four niggaz, SEVENTY-FOUR niggaz Fuck
the jungle (yes) There is none higher than me, don't slip up and wind up in the lion bend Big body Benz eyein' man, higher than A chick that flight
the frozen hands Weddin' bands don't make it rosy man Oh, is that your chick, why she all in his six? With her hand on his dick, keep lickin' her lips Is that your chick
So we split to nail a rumor About some work in New Orleans A twenty fed the tank Two bucks fed the band Maybe we could make it Down in jambalaya band
get a real job I hit the big time with my rock 'n' roll band The future's brighter now than I'd ever planned I'm ten times richer than my big brother
out Or deans run out, hustle 'til them ones stack up Or boys roll up, we playin' the block, you know man Niggas on the rock talkin' 'bout the cars we roll Chickens
, it blings Yep, I got suede in my dash I got your chick ready to kiss my ass I go to the club, man, it's no cash That black card make them chicks move
New York shit Yeah, I'm on my New York shit Got the world followin' the New York script Hustle with Tims and hoodies on my New York flip Rubber band
and wave it 'round in the air Swang New Akoo outfit with a Gucci rag Tied to my belt loop and my Louis bag Full of stacks rubber bands round big cash