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Birds With No Wings Lyrics
You sober up punk
I do it high
I'm ridin' the wave in the ...(?)
Baby you turnin' me on
And when you turnin' me off
I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross
I'm shippin' birds with no wings
All over seas
And other people cop em at the hottest degrees
I keep money for bail
Because I never liked jail
And I study A-plus student at Yale
They say Andre Nickatina ya emcee number seven
Smokin' weed up in heaven
Born on 3/11
Tigas and gods
Liquor and bomb
I look to my pad like the holy kerhan
I'm shippin' birds with no wings
All over seas
I put em where they never heard raps like these
I rhyme like calico cats
And two loaded gats
Now what mothafucka think he fuckin' with that?
I be the special shishcabob on the grill with all steaks
Call me a Mack truck with no brakes
Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
And get into anybody in any other state
Grand wizard(?) baby, look at what I done
We used to sex in ya basement now I'm number one
With no desire
I'm throwin' gasoline on the fire
I don't like your record store if you're not a buyer
Spin cycle
It's sumthin' like a wash and dry
And I be speakin' to my P.O with a serious lie
You know the Matador
The replican, the guillotine
The money, the dope
Homie, the triple beam
Melody's soft but is heavy as weights
We got the snottiest freaks
With the sexiest face
You better poka-bang-bang
A chica-chica-chill
A tumble down the hill
Like Jack and Jill
We say spin around broke witch
Bust a ballerina
I pro blow when Mark with Marina
It's time
Tiga I was bred to grind
‘N your zodiac sign
N' up in the minds
Man, the killa whale of hell
Yell, strikin' down bail
Wet you with the water
Smack you with my tail
Shit,
I'm shippin' birds over seas
...(?)
The number one Pisces
Shit,
It's me
I do it high
I'm ridin' the wave in the ...(?)
Baby you turnin' me on
And when you turnin' me off
I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross
All over seas
And other people cop em at the hottest degrees
Because I never liked jail
And I study A-plus student at Yale
Smokin' weed up in heaven
Born on 3/11
Liquor and bomb
I look to my pad like the holy kerhan
All over seas
I put em where they never heard raps like these
And two loaded gats
Now what mothafucka think he fuckin' with that?
Call me a Mack truck with no brakes
Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
And get into anybody in any other state
We used to sex in ya basement now I'm number one
With no desire
I'm throwin' gasoline on the fire
I don't like your record store if you're not a buyer
It's sumthin' like a wash and dry
And I be speakin' to my P.O with a serious lie
The replican, the guillotine
The money, the dope
Homie, the triple beam
We got the snottiest freaks
With the sexiest face
A chica-chica-chill
A tumble down the hill
Like Jack and Jill
Bust a ballerina
I pro blow when Mark with Marina
Tiga I was bred to grind
‘N your zodiac sign
N' up in the minds
Man, the killa whale of hell
Yell, strikin' down bail
Wet you with the water
Smack you with my tail
I'm shippin' birds over seas
...(?)
The number one Pisces
Shit,
It's me
Song Info
Submitted by
adidasx007 On Jun 15, 2004
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