Bleach (Jimi remix) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Bleach (Jimi remix) |
| 歌手 | DJ Green Lantern |
| 歌手 | Fort Minor |
| 专辑 | We Major |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| ( | |
| Hey Joe, a-were you goin' with that gun in your hand? | |
| ) | |
| Tony: | |
| Yeah? | |
| Chris: | |
| It's me. | |
| Tony: | |
| Called you half-a-******' hour ago. | |
| Chris: | |
| Yea, Adriana put my keys where I couldn't find 'em. | |
| Tony: | |
| Go to the drug store, get two pairs of surgical gloves, some bleach, come to our friend's house - the contractor. | |
| Yo, swing the sword for the classic year | |
| Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear | |
| Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air | |
| Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair | |
| What's up stupid? Shoot this | |
| 1-5-1 in the shot glass, hot flash | |
| Banging on the drum, huh | |
| We cause havoc down in Las Vegas | |
| Paper trails racing Pelican Brief-cases | |
| We outrageous, name the streets gave us | |
| Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers | |
| I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber | |
| Thumbs up, another banger | |
| Untuck the flamer, dumb ****** | |
| It's like getting hit with a dump truck | |
| Brains and guts | |
| Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff | |
| Get you cracked up like *******, heat 'em up | |
| OK, I'll let a sucka's fly once | |
| Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch | |
| Uh, malpractice - a bang-all jam | |
| I joust rappers and track in the radar scans | |
| Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons | |
| Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh | |
| Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, **** back the cannon | |
| What's up partna, I got ya (what, what) | |
| Hope that spoken gunshots crack the piñata | |
| Slap, box, mouth of backwash | |
| Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? | |
| Set the pace like a mustang, ma*******n' | |
| Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash | |
| Dropped on a blood-stained mattress | |
| Stop, you ain't got access, watch | |
| I'mma change my asset, Ryu and Tak | |
| You little *******s in the game, you can suck my **** | |
| Lay flat on the ground don't make a peep | |
| If you want the stains out now, get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Guess who's got the rubber gloves and the bleach? | |
| Guess who's rockin every club, that's me | |
| Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets | |
| Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat | |
| Guess who got the group name on top? | |
| S.O.B. | |
| got the rap thing locked | |
| Who want what, when, why, and what not | |
| Who got next up, Ryu and Tak | |
| Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click | |
| Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip | |
| While the blood keeps gu*******ng, relish and pink mustard, huh | |
| I'mma slam till I tear it to bits, 'til the bell for the recess rang | |
| On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P.F. Changs | |
| Hopscotch on the corpse 'til I drop the torch | |
| And burn crews for their views that would rock with force | |
| Saying, don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, **** back the cannon | |
| What's up y'all, we don't stall, come one, come all | |
| 'Til we drop the ball like | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Yeah | |
| ( | |
| Yo, yo. *******noda, *******noda from the South Dakota, it's Big Ghost right here, you know what I mean? With the baking soda and the... This, this... yo, that... We finished off that joint for, um, you and Lupe, you know what I mean? So yo, um, hit me back, G. So I can understand your rap, you know what I mean? You got me, got me, like, kinda twisted over this. I want you to try to explain it, alright? One. | |
| ) |
| Hey Joe, awere you goin' with that gun in your hand? | |
| Tony: | |
| Yeah? | |
| Chris: | |
| It' s me. | |
| Tony: | |
| Called you halfa' hour ago. | |
| Chris: | |
| Yea, Adriana put my keys where I couldn' t find ' em. | |
| Tony: | |
| Go to the drug store, get two pairs of surgical gloves, some bleach, come to our friend' s house the contractor. | |
| Yo, swing the sword for the classic year | |
| Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear | |
| Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air | |
| Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair | |
| What' s up stupid? Shoot this | |
| 151 in the shot glass, hot flash | |
| Banging on the drum, huh | |
| We cause havoc down in Las Vegas | |
| Paper trails racing Pelican Briefcases | |
| We outrageous, name the streets gave us | |
| Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers | |
| I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber | |
| Thumbs up, another banger | |
| Untuck the flamer, dumb | |
| It' s like getting hit with a dump truck | |
| Brains and guts | |
| Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff | |
| Get you cracked up like , heat ' em up | |
| OK, I' ll let a sucka' s fly once | |
| Face down, found him in his Cap' n Crunch | |
| Uh, malpractice a bangall jam | |
| I joust rappers and track in the radar scans | |
| Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons | |
| Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh | |
| Don' t stop the sureshot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, back the cannon | |
| What' s up partna, I got ya what, what | |
| Hope that spoken gunshots crack the pi ata | |
| Slap, box, mouth of backwash | |
| Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? | |
| Set the pace like a mustang, ma n' | |
| Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash | |
| Dropped on a bloodstained mattress | |
| Stop, you ain' t got access, watch | |
| I' mma change my asset, Ryu and Tak | |
| You little s in the game, you can suck my | |
| Lay flat on the ground don' t make a peep | |
| If you want the stains out now, get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Guess who' s got the rubber gloves and the bleach? | |
| Guess who' s rockin every club, that' s me | |
| Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets | |
| Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat | |
| Guess who got the group name on top? | |
| S. O. B. | |
| got the rap thing locked | |
| Who want what, when, why, and what not | |
| Who got next up, Ryu and Tak | |
| Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click | |
| Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip | |
| While the blood keeps gu ng, relish and pink mustard, huh | |
| I' mma slam till I tear it to bits, ' til the bell for the recess rang | |
| On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P. F. Changs | |
| Hopscotch on the corpse ' til I drop the torch | |
| And burn crews for their views that would rock with force | |
| Saying, don' t stop the sureshot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, back the cannon | |
| What' s up y' all, we don' t stall, come one, come all | |
| ' Til we drop the ball like | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Yeah | |
| Yo, yo. noda, noda from the South Dakota, it' s Big Ghost right here, you know what I mean? With the baking soda and the... This, this... yo, that... We finished off that joint for, um, you and Lupe, you know what I mean? So yo, um, hit me back, G. So I can understand your rap, you know what I mean? You got me, got me, like, kinda twisted over this. I want you to try to explain it, alright? One. | |
| Hey Joe, awere you goin' with that gun in your hand? | |
| Tony: | |
| Yeah? | |
| Chris: | |
| It' s me. | |
| Tony: | |
| Called you halfa' hour ago. | |
| Chris: | |
| Yea, Adriana put my keys where I couldn' t find ' em. | |
| Tony: | |
| Go to the drug store, get two pairs of surgical gloves, some bleach, come to our friend' s house the contractor. | |
| Yo, swing the sword for the classic year | |
| Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear | |
| Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air | |
| Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair | |
| What' s up stupid? Shoot this | |
| 151 in the shot glass, hot flash | |
| Banging on the drum, huh | |
| We cause havoc down in Las Vegas | |
| Paper trails racing Pelican Briefcases | |
| We outrageous, name the streets gave us | |
| Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers | |
| I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber | |
| Thumbs up, another banger | |
| Untuck the flamer, dumb | |
| It' s like getting hit with a dump truck | |
| Brains and guts | |
| Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff | |
| Get you cracked up like , heat ' em up | |
| OK, I' ll let a sucka' s fly once | |
| Face down, found him in his Cap' n Crunch | |
| Uh, malpractice a bangall jam | |
| I joust rappers and track in the radar scans | |
| Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons | |
| Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh | |
| Don' t stop the sureshot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, back the cannon | |
| What' s up partna, I got ya what, what | |
| Hope that spoken gunshots crack the pi ata | |
| Slap, box, mouth of backwash | |
| Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? | |
| Set the pace like a mustang, ma n' | |
| Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash | |
| Dropped on a bloodstained mattress | |
| Stop, you ain' t got access, watch | |
| I' mma change my asset, Ryu and Tak | |
| You little s in the game, you can suck my | |
| Lay flat on the ground don' t make a peep | |
| If you want the stains out now, get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Guess who' s got the rubber gloves and the bleach? | |
| Guess who' s rockin every club, that' s me | |
| Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets | |
| Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat | |
| Guess who got the group name on top? | |
| S. O. B. | |
| got the rap thing locked | |
| Who want what, when, why, and what not | |
| Who got next up, Ryu and Tak | |
| Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click | |
| Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip | |
| While the blood keeps gu ng, relish and pink mustard, huh | |
| I' mma slam till I tear it to bits, ' til the bell for the recess rang | |
| On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P. F. Changs | |
| Hopscotch on the corpse ' til I drop the torch | |
| And burn crews for their views that would rock with force | |
| Saying, don' t stop the sureshot, the rooftop anthem | |
| Blast the gold box, back the cannon | |
| What' s up y' all, we don' t stall, come one, come all | |
| ' Til we drop the ball like | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Get the bleach | |
| Yeah | |
| Yo, yo. noda, noda from the South Dakota, it' s Big Ghost right here, you know what I mean? With the baking soda and the... This, this... yo, that... We finished off that joint for, um, you and Lupe, you know what I mean? So yo, um, hit me back, G. So I can understand your rap, you know what I mean? You got me, got me, like, kinda twisted over this. I want you to try to explain it, alright? One. | |
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