a bitch Kiss my ass Son of a bitch Son of a bitch You asshole Son of a bitch Son of a bitch Son of a bitch Son of a bitch Son of a bitch Cut you three
Preklad: Six Feet Under. Son of a Bitch.
Son of a bitch Kiss my ass Son of a bitch Son of a bitch You asshole Son of a bitch Cock suckin' motherfucker I was right - take this - Aaaah! Son of
home, he on like a fuck Did a dime for holdin' up the Gods up in the armored truck Ten years later son 280 on the weight tip He throwin' up six plates
, instead of the six While you lookin' for a bitch, we lookin' for a brick That we can cook by six and give the whole block a fix Catch me on T gettin
'mon My life is like a box of chocolates I work hard for it, plus I am awkward, uh I am a addict's son, plus I'm a addict, son I am a AK addict, uh,
treated like one Hope you got yourself a gun niggaz 'Cuz you know I cock and blow niggaz And if right silent the temp get on some shit Go on out six feet
es mi vengansa habre los ojos que yo estoy enfrente ya estubo te creias hombre a abrir la boca tu turno te a llegado aqui se acaba a ti te toca con
drop Caesar, it's more than a leisure Bitch every fuckin' grain in your brain like a tweezer The sinister thief shaded to six feet deep for the misdemeanor
me... [Fred Casely] That's right, sweetheart. That's right. [Roxie Hart] You son of a bitch... (shoot) Son of a bitch! You son of a bitch! [Photographer
soft and nappy A menstruating cycle thats never acting happy Hormones, menopause, cramps yo, I wonder Pussy can't bury niggaz six feet under Others won't listen, vagina's all busted Son
Sixty-six hit more licks than a tootsie roll, give me a mic, a bad bitch, and I'm good to go, slow flow, game cold like a eskimo, T.K.O. dawg, I think
my shit An' put them son of a bitches six feet under 'Cause I'm sick of runnin' from the motherfuckers Turnin' tables 'cause I'm able, I ain't fallin' victim Time to play a
about me I'm never to let a brother bass And if you bring on a crew, I hope the bitches saw Scarface Cause I'ma send em to the morgue Six feet under,
a top, on the regular or get plugged in your mug, from a slug, by your competitor Gunshots echo throughout the city like thunder, no wonder Another brother six feet
in the six circle circle drink To purple mink, had mad bank, Chanel bag full of Benjamin Franks More ices than a hockey rink, face of a Saint Went for a
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
s a no no, with manhole I'll formulate a plan yo That will make your children bastards and your wife a widow Trying to battle me that's a sin And be like
