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Mrs. Wades A Bitch Lyrics |
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I kinda know this old lady, she is my health teacher, she took my cell phone up, then she took away my beeper, she said I shouldn't have it, and I should be learnin, but there aint no need in knowin how bad her pussys burnin, Mrs. Hutto is infected, with yeast in her mouth, now she gone be coughin biscuit for a week in a half, she under mrs.wades desk, kissin on her breast, then lookin for the next girl they gonna moleste, they lookin and a searchin, winkin and a flirtin, now they gonna get morgan and go up her shirt and, do some things they shouldn't, but Mrs. Wade knew she could't, she knew it'd be wrong, been then she didn't car and just got her freak on! Mrs. Wade is pretty nasty, her ass is old and ashy, but listen at her voice when she scream it old and raspy, but when i walked in I thought I was gonna be sick, damn mrs wade you stupid wierd ass bitch! |
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Mrs. Wades A Bitch Lyrics |
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I kinda know this old lady, she is my health teacher, she took my cell phone up, then she took away my beeper, she said I shouldn't have it, and I should be learnin, but there aint no need in knowin how bad her pussys burnin, Mrs. Hutto is infected, with yeast in her mouth, now she gone be coughin biscuit for a week in a half, she under mrs.wades desk, kissin on her breast, then lookin for the next girl they gonna moleste, they lookin and a searchin, winkin and a flirtin, now they gonna get morgan and go up her shirt and, do some things they shouldn't, but Mrs. Wade knew she could't, she knew it'd be wrong, |
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Investigative Reports Lyrics |
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[here we go, come on] [A, A battle was fought, in Brooklyn...] [Hessian Soldiers killed 3,000 men; much of the fighting took place in what is now Prospect Park in Greenwood cemetary, as well as the Park Slope and Gowanas neighborhoods.] [This was the first battle, of America.] [Intro/Outro: U-God] Rugged rhymsters, crooked crimesters Dime droppers, Twenty-five-to-lifers Backstabbers, low blowers Illegal... cocaine growers Starvation, profanity Anxiety, brothers tryin me Gun slingers, dead ringers [Verse One: Raekwon the Chef] Yo, my slang's out of this world Mix collaboration man, little man and his girl Way of life got me thinkin, plus I'm analyzin young youths on roofs, you know, three time felony brutes Roll together, tropical trees puff, whatever Yo we could go run up on, kids for leathers What drug? Faculties bubble ki's for G's Cream flow like seven seas, hit chicks Guayanese Word up, hold your head before you fall out The morgue route, the devil want that Let's get my niggaz locked all out Change for better, that be my only vendetta with life, feed your seed right, he's breathin indeed right Chef, remarkable, sparkable, raps and tackable gats Never get jacked, see ya then move black Paradise trife, plush with much ice Gettin nice, layin back, sleek all my life Word up! |
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