lirik lagu royce da 59 - vagina
we holla at ’em like
[verse 1]
these n-gg-s talkin’ bout they walk talk and think bossy
i’m in the trump tower shower washin’ ink off me
two ugly b-tches in my bed, moochin’ drinks off me
my mini bar’s empty, but that’s just how i’m livin’
i’m in the presidential suite with two freaks,
i call ’em my kennedy fried chickens
“awe yeah… i’m back… b-tches”
but this is, kinda like my wilder style
vicious, say when i’m sippin’, i turn into shallow hal
i must have been high or somethin’
cause i could of swore that one of these b-tches told
me to buy her somethin’
i told her…
“i got a present for you right here” (what?)
“actually it’s not a present. it’s my p-n-s”
i’m feelin’ plastered
so what they fat women, i feel like i have to bite
the apple like the mac emblem
one of the b-tches like, “oh i love you so much.
i love slaughterhouse, i love joey, joell, crooked. all you guys”
shut up
“i don’t like it when you talk.” (what?)
“cause that just means you’re not suckin’ my c-ck.”
b-tch i’m on everything, i don’t know what you just had
i’m ’bout to slip and fall and head b-tt yo -ss like superbad
one of ’em start somethin’ super fast
the other one i gave arabian goggles, they flier than alien model
for now
these b-tches givin’ me brains till i’m out of mines
that’s when i had an epiphany like “stop!”…
v-g-n- time
[chorus]
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“i wanna have s-x with your v-g-n-” (uhh)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“e=mc v-g-n-” (c’mon)
we holla at ’em like
[verse 2]
i swear these little punks be wildin’
claimin’ they only f-ck bad b-tches
chopper stylin’, i be swimmin’ in trash b-tches goin’ dumpster divin’
i met a b-tch on the street, she said she want a n-gg- that’s deep
i’m deep
i said…
“i’m the indian jones of explorin’ crotch.
i’m the shakespeare of enormous c-ck.”
i told her i got an ‘oh so flow mean’
rope-a-dope? nope, i got a poconos swing
little b-tch riddle me this (c’mon)
“what’s the difference between a girl’s mouth and a girl’s v-g-n-? (what?)
there is none. i want my p-n-s to inside both of those things.”
i know you gazin’ at the words i text
i ain’t a virgin’, your wife ain’t the first bird i pecked
she ain’t per-fect, she per-plexed
she can’t quite think
your baby girl ain’t right like birth defects
my religion is god body gynecology, i work with s-x
feelin’ no pain like percocets
sellin’ syrup and wet in church and sweat
you herb n-gg-s got me twisted like cursive text
n-gg- i cling to her
i’ll give her h-lla smoke
i’ll sing to her
i’ll tell her h-lla jokes like:
“why did my p-n-s cross the road?” (what?)
“to get to the other v-g-n-”
[chorus]
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“i wanna have s-x with your v-g-n-” (uhh)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“v-g-n-” (what?)
“2 + 2 = v-g-n-” (c’mon)
we holla at ’em like
“my d-ck is like an airplane. it gives girls -rg-sms.
i’m the wayne gretzky of s-xual stuff.
i’m the, hulk hogan of slammin’ m-ff.
love is for girls and gays. (what?)
if you wanna be with me it goes one of two ways.
either you have s-x with me…
or you have s-x with me.
girls love my s-x.
i’m a good s-x man.
cause my s-x is the best.
i’m like jean claude van damme.
but instead of fight people… i have s-x with them.”
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