Young Bleed
Young Bleed - The Last Outlaw songtekst
Je score:
`Come on out with your hands high! `Hahahaha, with your hands high! Hahhaha huh I better reason with him` Why don`t you ride to the rhythm of a nigga don`t give a fuck about ya` Won`t even talk about ya`, ho You ain`t know? I`m just a hustler, in spite of myself Ridin` all by myself, without no one else Looky here On my Doc Holidays, boy I piss upon your grave And wipe the smile away Nigga, don`t even try Fistful of dollars, we gon` ride Ya hear me, nigga? See I ain`t got that many friends, white tombstone [???] Me and Rudy go to war with - anybody From the niggas, to the killas They callin` me a bad man ridin` `cross the desert plains And Mama still can`t explain without the `caine It`s raw, boy Cowboys hear the `Yippie-yi-yay!` Murder dancin` where the Indians play Watch what you say Durin` the spiritual ritual huntified ceremony Clickin` swines[?] that`ll get you on a Shetland pony Memoirs of a madman - Killer Carl Cox and Bill Watts `Couldn`t rassle nappy niggas with a lasso Heated like Tabasco, it`s on Nigga quick on the draw And he get to bustin` on them bitches like the Last Outlaw Uh, nigga what! `Hahha... Cowboy I`m gonna [???] you are a testly li`l cuss(whistling)` Niggas and bitches call me Nino Corleone, I got a license to kill But ain`t no playa hatin` in me, I got love for the real So if you see me with my [guv?], just move and step aside Hit me up and let a nigga just ride South Side Got your mouth wide, buckin` for nothin` Now if you`re `bout it, be `bout it `bout it, and without no discussion Now if you`re talkin`, keep talkin