|
| Letras de Canciones Terror Squad Yeah Yeah Yeah |
[Remy Martin]
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Check it
[Verse One: Remy Martin]
You see the girl get it popping like no other
Now they call me Streets cause I, be on the block and I'm so gutter
My flow a butter see Rem got a whole lot of game
but none of y'all lame dudes going to **** her
I'm on some chill shit
But if you fronting then I will flip
I'll give it to a little chick real quick
Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real
You got little tits and your face looks like Emmitt Till
First I'm a get it hot, then I'm a get a deal
l15!52022b20201818m!!12p
My budget none stop, mine paying 10 mills
And when I'm not in the hood, I'm rocking the hood
smoke Vanilla dutches and stuff on Holly-a-wood
And if I, pollyin the dick it's got to be good
I tell him I could change his life just like the lottery could
And now I got him good, he believes me and he should
Some dudes won't go down but a lot of them would
I know this nigga name, Eat-it-out, he like to eat it out
I just cooked in the crib and he still want to eat it out [Damn!]
Oh God its Remy Martin
In a hot pink Porsche with the purple carpets
Nigga!
[Hook: Remy Martin]
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
[Remy]
Oh God!
[Verse Two: Fat Joe]
Hot enough swinging Crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit [cockpit]
Overseas moving ki's like a locksmith [yeah]
Rocks from Witsick in the sits of neck [ok]
All I do is warn cause that's the big boy jet [ok]
Uh, you never rocked with the R in Chicago [noo!]
I picked up a bad bitch in a Marcielago [noo!]
I got cribs better year estates man [man]
I'm in L.A. with Atlanta plates fam [fam]
Still niggaz wanna go against Crack [Crack!]
But that's like going against Shaq [Shaq!]
And that's too much diesel, I got too much people [people]
Mother****ers, you crazy I'll leave you [leave you!]
And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip
But you can find me on the woods now that's a testament
Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch
Eyecandy of the month, God damn she sick!
She got a problem, I can help her with that
Tell her man that she's ****in with Crack
Bet he won't do nothin [nope]
Frontin like he gon' do somethin [nope]
Quick to tell you that his whole crew stunting [talk to him!]
Talk to me, c'mon
[Hook: Remy Martin]
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah!
[Fat Joe]
Yeah, feel that right there
Nod your head to this shit right here, that real hip-hop right there
It's Cook Coke Crack, TS, Remy Mar
Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers
True Story, BX Burough, Uh!
|
|
