- 歌詞
- 專輯列表
- 歌手介紹
C-Rayz Walz
-
Whodafukareyou?
Fuck alarm clocks, battle me you'll start wakin up
I slice you with your rhyme book and write verses on your paper cuts
With alcohol pads, excuses you'll be makin up
Sound dumb like Outkast breakin up
Last time you shot somebody, you had a camera
I'm C - Rayz author of stamina
Loungin on the walls you'll end up like Humpty Dumpty
With your shell cracked, scrambled, in search of something
I'm a narcissist, I bomb quick, your full of shit like sausages, pardon this
I alone turn crews into the Partridge kids
I love games I play you like bragin right cartridges
Y'all against me is dragons versus ostriches
Totally preposterous, like abortions, i kill stupid kids before they act up
Make a new suit flip call it a back tux
You cracked up like baseheads in a space ship
Playin skellzies in the matrix, the only thing i lose is my patience
I smack the shit out you tissue heads
Plus the missile said: you see I'm official dread
Hip Hop Don deep into stocks and bonds
I'll take a shit in your house, and blame it on your moms
Survivin the game when i get money im buyin a chain
Drivin a Range and my flame will expire your fame
I'm comin through loaded one, buckin two
I'm C-Rayz Walz son who da fuck are you?
Chorus: (X2)
Ayo yo yo im truckin through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through
Yo im C-Rayz Walz WhoDaFuckAreYou?
I'm comin through fifth knuckle bruise brick fist snuffin you
Yo im C-Rayz Walz WhoDaFuckAreYou?
Who da fuck is you (x5)
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網
C-Rayz Walz plain Pat
Some people must get jacked
My repertoire from back smackin cats wit gats on impact
Just like that we festered like bubble in cuts
Doublin up now funny cats get fucked up for mumblin stuff
The nearest truck rolled up im just playin wit this
Every line explosive my pen broken up but
Still smokin strokin thrust, fuck closin shows
My frozen flows is hot, let me open up
Like Arabian referees who yell sesame plus
I'll spread through the industry with leprosy cuts
Effectively strut, put a hole in one the second we putt
You so pussy you come from a rib you son of a gut
Lying ass rappers duck, I'm the lightning struck
Blazin like we lightin a Dutch Masters up
At the Mason-Dixon line twistin lime in a cup
Get your mind fucked up while your nine in the truck
Even my producer know math with his Caucasian ass so
Just because you say please doesn't mean i won't blast stupid
You gotta show and improvement, brothas live and die for this music
Dont do it for amusement
Ghetto hi-top blaze you for your hydrox
Put glocks on my Irish clock and watch my eyes pop
Chicken head, i dead your livestock
Do a song with Charles Dutton to see how i rock
Chorus
-
|
