Another Victory - Clean Edit 歌词
| 歌曲 | Another Victory - Clean Edit |
| 歌手 | Cypress Hill |
| 专辑 | Playlist: The Very Best Of Cypress Hill |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Lawrence Muggerud/Louis Freese | |
| Get ready motherfuckers! | |
| You can't fuck with the [spanish] | |
| Please no interruptions | |
| Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun | |
| Like my rag top six-five | |
| Smash you with the switches | |
| The hitch is, you're gettin too big for your britches | |
| Why you runnin like bitches | |
| With your tail up, i'm the thug pirate | |
| Put the sail up - your whole crew frail, what | |
| You want this joint, suck it inhale nut | |
| Niggas are feelin' this track in braile, huh | |
| We're grade a while you motherfuckers fail, what | |
| You understand, immitators gotta bail up | |
| To all the males and females gangin' up | |
| All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up | |
| I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up | |
| Slangin' cuts | |
| [chorus:] | |
| Your squad against mine | |
| You're minor leagues with major | |
| Detail the plans like verse | |
| Hit hard, catch you off guard | |
| Another victory | |
| I slay rappers with precision | |
| I got vision like anakin | |
| You panicin' i'm leavin you stiffer than a mannequin | |
| My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' | |
| Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' | |
| Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics | |
| That play like a mandalin | |
| I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' | |
| I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' | |
| I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, | |
| Then spit fire in the places you standin' in | |
| I take a fool to the hill | |
| Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' | |
| Now i see your whole brain's scramblin' | |
| Don't like what you hear, change the channel then nigga | |
| [chorus] | |
| I spark cells of a rhythm | |
| You best listen, get it over with | |
| Stolen shit, rollin it, cypress ownin' it | |
| Bitin' niggas clonin it, | |
| I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it | |
| Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it | |
| Your body's on the floor, head got a hole in it | |
| The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it | |
| You still fuckin' but your wack, ain't throwin' it | |
| Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it | |
| Head full of hair, still ain't combin' it | |
| Five child in the world who's ropin' it | |
| Never know if i'm high or i'm throwin' shit | |
| I got you stuck in the twilight zone on shit | |
| I'm the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch | |
| [chorus] |
| zuo qu : Lawrence Muggerud Louis Freese | |
| Get ready motherfuckers! | |
| You can' t fuck with the spanish | |
| Please no interruptions | |
| Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun | |
| Like my rag top sixfive | |
| Smash you with the switches | |
| The hitch is, you' re gettin too big for your britches | |
| Why you runnin like bitches | |
| With your tail up, i' m the thug pirate | |
| Put the sail up your whole crew frail, what | |
| You want this joint, suck it inhale nut | |
| Niggas are feelin' this track in braile, huh | |
| We' re grade a while you motherfuckers fail, what | |
| You understand, immitators gotta bail up | |
| To all the males and females gangin' up | |
| All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up | |
| I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up | |
| Slangin' cuts | |
| chorus: | |
| Your squad against mine | |
| You' re minor leagues with major | |
| Detail the plans like verse | |
| Hit hard, catch you off guard | |
| Another victory | |
| I slay rappers with precision | |
| I got vision like anakin | |
| You panicin' i' m leavin you stiffer than a mannequin | |
| My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' | |
| Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' | |
| Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics | |
| That play like a mandalin | |
| I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' | |
| I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' | |
| I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, | |
| Then spit fire in the places you standin' in | |
| I take a fool to the hill | |
| Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' | |
| Now i see your whole brain' s scramblin' | |
| Don' t like what you hear, change the channel then nigga | |
| chorus | |
| I spark cells of a rhythm | |
| You best listen, get it over with | |
| Stolen shit, rollin it, cypress ownin' it | |
| Bitin' niggas clonin it, | |
| I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it | |
| Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it | |
| Your body' s on the floor, head got a hole in it | |
| The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it | |
| You still fuckin' but your wack, ain' t throwin' it | |
| Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it | |
| Head full of hair, still ain' t combin' it | |
| Five child in the world who' s ropin' it | |
| Never know if i' m high or i' m throwin' shit | |
| I got you stuck in the twilight zone on shit | |
| I' m the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch | |
| chorus |
| zuò qǔ : Lawrence Muggerud Louis Freese | |
| Get ready motherfuckers! | |
| You can' t fuck with the spanish | |
| Please no interruptions | |
| Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun | |
| Like my rag top sixfive | |
| Smash you with the switches | |
| The hitch is, you' re gettin too big for your britches | |
| Why you runnin like bitches | |
| With your tail up, i' m the thug pirate | |
| Put the sail up your whole crew frail, what | |
| You want this joint, suck it inhale nut | |
| Niggas are feelin' this track in braile, huh | |
| We' re grade a while you motherfuckers fail, what | |
| You understand, immitators gotta bail up | |
| To all the males and females gangin' up | |
| All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up | |
| I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up | |
| Slangin' cuts | |
| chorus: | |
| Your squad against mine | |
| You' re minor leagues with major | |
| Detail the plans like verse | |
| Hit hard, catch you off guard | |
| Another victory | |
| I slay rappers with precision | |
| I got vision like anakin | |
| You panicin' i' m leavin you stiffer than a mannequin | |
| My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' | |
| Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' | |
| Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics | |
| That play like a mandalin | |
| I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' | |
| I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' | |
| I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, | |
| Then spit fire in the places you standin' in | |
| I take a fool to the hill | |
| Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' | |
| Now i see your whole brain' s scramblin' | |
| Don' t like what you hear, change the channel then nigga | |
| chorus | |
| I spark cells of a rhythm | |
| You best listen, get it over with | |
| Stolen shit, rollin it, cypress ownin' it | |
| Bitin' niggas clonin it, | |
| I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it | |
| Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it | |
| Your body' s on the floor, head got a hole in it | |
| The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it | |
| You still fuckin' but your wack, ain' t throwin' it | |
| Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it | |
| Head full of hair, still ain' t combin' it | |
| Five child in the world who' s ropin' it | |
| Never know if i' m high or i' m throwin' shit | |
| I got you stuck in the twilight zone on shit | |
| I' m the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch | |
| chorus |
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