B-Legit - Don't Blame it on Me - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Don't Blame it on Me

B-Legit

14

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Tekst piosenki
[E-40] Youse a fool. You sound like you fin to earl They can have all the armor but that calm doesn't harm Chorus One: E-40 Double cross the game, and get yo' head to' off Disrespect the game, ya get yo' head to' off Your faulty bitches main? A getcha head to' off Fuck with my riches main? And getcha head to' off, beittch! [B-Legit] I'm erog-enous, most dog in this Dark brown like a clot, but now I'm saucy Hoes toss me they number like an alley-oop But I slam it in the trash, if she ain't got, ass and loot Shoot, it's all mine in the nine sizzle Pistol still fizeal fine, direct hits make em retire I ain't no liar, I put it on my flow Niggas fuck around, they get they head to' off [E-40] What's up? They disrespect us Them fools ain't tryin to fight no wars You talkin about bang bang That's the way this shit gonna go Just let your balls hang Don't think about just do it Cause when you think about it Before you know it, you blew it I ain't got shit to lose No mercy nigga, no sarges Get your rowdy boys Do it today not tomorrow Check your inventory Make sure you got enough ammo It's self-explanitory Don't let em blow out the candle, biotch! Chorus Chorus Two: E-40 Think about it 'fore you pop that shit Cause if they find you witcha crew, they pack split Don't blame it on me (4X) (repeat all 2X) [E-40] You came up sixteen Interest is fast She'll still serve everybody For the cash She likes to party With her ass-lick pussy-lick Dick Lick ass [B-Legit] And we some grown men, we turn trill ho out And all we ever did was stuck dick in her mouth We fuck wines to the millionaires Ball players that play, you better keep your bitch out the Bay [E-40] The less fortunate The sluts, the drug abusers Oldest profession known to mankind Is prostitution When I make a zillion I resign Just like clockwork But you know me I'm always a day or two late And a dollar short [B-Legit] I trick a bitch that love Legit and do whatever I tell her to From credit card scams to givin head to you So if you breathe, know what I mean, prepare that ass For the guillotine boss, get that ass to' off Chorus One Chorus Two [B-Legit] I got dreams of a mansion with the glass block About a million point five in the stash box I let the beat knock, I let the ass drop And if a nigga run up, he get ch-uh-chopped [E-40] Case number two forty six, she been in an unhappy dwellin Neighbors steady complainin, bout the dope sellin But they ain't never been evicted, or convicted They ain't never been subpeonaed to court, or arrested [B-Legit] I tried to tell em like I once told fools what's up Fonzarelli and the Savage get they cash and loss I'm from the coast, where we don't play that kid shit And niggas get they motherfuckin wig split [E-40] Ahhhhh I spits nothin less than hi-tech Lugz We can buck on each other or we can put on the gloves Don't make me mad let me know, if you want more spot I can do this playa, get the driveshaft all off, biotch! Chorus One Chorus Two (to fade)
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