A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Blu

"Funky Cowboy Meets the Funky Drummer"

[Verse I]
I run my sh*t up at the clean hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
Crown fitted, why would they think I wouldn't when I'm in it like
John Wooden with the cushion with the lean 'bout
One eighty, 'bout it like I bop a n*gga bobble like, Bobby Knight
Mac Dowel type, ugh, you Donald, it's duck season
I'm hollow and buck often and - fallen off, I - often
Caught him in deep thought tonguing down a gold tooth
Old spice with the Pro Tool vocals
The old school with the home phone
The old post kept the hoes loose

[Chorus]
Now I run my sh*t up on the world
I run my sh*t up on the world, world, world
I run my sh*t up on the world
I run my sh*t up on the, ugh, on the world

[Verse II]
I run sh*t up at the clean hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
And still boss
Why would they think I wasn't if I wasn't, f*ck it
Still buzzing tilt Douglas on the sauce, it cost
One fifty to floss in one city for me
'Cause when you folks it's a different fee
I'm either seen with the clappers
Or children of Black Panthers, the queens
The Pink Panthers, black b*tches on the scene, I mean
I never asked if you thought I was a wild boy
Sick with it, let my style poise, ugh
And n*ggas had to get up out of Illinois
Since Sider was Chi boy

[Chorus]
Now I run my sh*t up on the world
I run my sh*t up on the world, world, world
I run my sh*t up on the world
I run my sh*t up on the, ugh, on the world

[Verse III]
Ayo my money long, buddy long, but he slim, uh, yeah
The ghetto's right under that butter leather, but it's him
Once again, slim with the grin, tilted brim, spinning hubcaps
Ugh, f*ck that, sh*tty bus paths
I crack a flask on that ass off a BMX, yup
Thin ass tires, letting my chains flare, yeah
Gold b*tch it's always go, play the welfare
Chill chick I'm on a cell phone, cool kid, I'm on a bike b*tch
Swoop a n*gga for a have to kruga n*gga, sh*t is dead
b*tches fled from the verse they rather give him head
83, black and soul pass electro gold
My sh*t shine, b*tches it's always go
f*ck a shiny suit, still giving shiners
Don't blind 'em, closelining
The whole city behind him, aye

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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