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lirik lagu iceberg slim (author) - durealla (part 1)

i was stalking hoes in the center of town
right in the middle of the square
waiting for my man, ’cause i had a plan to cut some reefer there
now, i was flying and fairly high
just standing there, digging the hoes
when up drove my man, good doing van, in his super bad eldorado
then a wild straw in his jaw, havana [?]
a silver suit, looking nifty
shoes of p~ssy hide, from the posh east side
his togs cost at least a grand and fifty
i was also decked out in nearly the best, but i couldn’t touch van
my flair was as good as is, but the reason is
van was a long money man
he got out, looked all about and started in to speak
when from the side, with a sеxy stride, came a broad sure ‘nough, stonе freak
she wore tight mini dress, that showed off her fat nest
and her hair had a sunshine glow
her skin porcelain hue and her eyes vile blue
i saw she was a ball blaster, a hoe gain master
she had confection lips and rack h~ll’s hips
and a caboose swaying fine
she didn’t need to hunt for someone to suck her c~nt. any chump would do it. any old time
i spoke to van and kissed her hand and asked if this was his bunny
with a bit of a sigh, he gave this reply:
“she’s anyone’s who has long money
she’s bossed down, fame all around, playing is her stick
durealla du fontaine is this lady’s name
but beware, ’cause this doll is sl!ck
i’ve seen this sharp a work, she plays like a turk
she’s deadly, with a far out head
she’s a sure shot mack, from a long way back
and hip how to rip off the bread”
“look guys”, said d
“i’m hungry as a puppy”
so we planned a gourmee peck that night
we went to a spot down the street which was chic~elite!
this was my first big flight
we were players, it’s true, with [?]
but clean as the board of [?]
no cop could tip, ’cause we were too hip
we painted a picture of wealth
a captain named abel led us to our table and brought us back some wine
refreshing, as cocaine from the castles of spain. vintage, 1879
we ate hummingbird’s hearts and other rare parts
topped off with a seven~inch steak
granned our king with b~tterfy wings
and a salad that took three chefs to make
we had bumblebee legs and peac~ck eggs steamed over leas from peru
[?], as we sat, admiring the view
now, at the time we were dining, van was unwinding all of my pedigree
as we smoked a cigarette and van paid the debt, i knew durealla was pinning me
“look here, fella”, said durealla
“i’d like to dig you again. why not come around to my part of town, say, sat~rday night, about ten?”
sat~rday night i got fly and went on by to see miss du fontaine
i stopped off [?] dealing snow and caught a bag of cocaine
i got to a pad which was some kind of bad, filled with a real nice scent
with a three~inch carpet that came from the market somewhere in the orient
the [?] was wailing, ah, but i was feeling i just couldn’t get loose with this queen
she dug my [?], so she took hold and gave me some pot, light green
she put cocaine on her thumb, painted my gum and gave me some wine to sip
you should’ve heard her purr as i looked at her and painted her gums and lips
she looked me dead in the eye, and without no lie, here’s just what that fine freak said:
“i dig you, candy, as a pair, we’ll be dandy. like cocaine, you go to my head
if you’ll be my man, i’ll play the land and be your own true b~tch
but there are times where you must lend me to other men
and with their money, i’ll make you rich”
now, you know where i’m at, i really bought that and let her on off to bed
me and this queen made love supreme and i flipped when she gave me some head
for a month or more, i was schooled by this hoe
it was like a [?] dream
i really learnt well ’cause i can’t begin to tell of how this b~tch could scheme
then, one day in bed:
“candy honey”, she said
“today is to be our first big day”
we got our heads bad and left the pad

- lirik lagu iceberg slim author

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