lirik lagu snowgoons - 40 barz
[intro: big shug talking]
we’re gonna get it in right now. y’all n-ggas know. uh huh. what it is
[verse one: big shug]
i’m not a duffle bag boy but a suitcase man
with doc-ments inside to make you some grands
have s-x with hot ladies who got big cans
big shug baby, don of murderpan
whip 40 cars, got 40 scars
got it in smash, spit 40 bars
for all of those that like to talk sh-t a lot
come around the block [?]
[verse two: edo g]
no scene, the whole bean
eyesight of an eagle, so keen by no means
get money like goldstein
grown men no teams, slow death like old fiends
b-tch rappers on my -ss like old jeans
with no seam, knock ’em out like codeine
so when i’m touring, the first in sp-ce
like yuri gagarin, edo will surely determine
[verse three: singapore kane]
if you dudes think i’m p-ssy pay a gynecologist and check me
right handed n-ggas get slapped lefty
cash is the reason i mash but i’m poetic too
i’m bad to the skeletal my beef is inedible
singer and special teamz, bound to wreck your jeans
big shug brings pain you can’t heal with morphine
from boston to berlin the cash disperse
count all my euros or get laid out like astroturf
[verse four: slaine]
you can catch me driving a ‘lac with tires that’s flat
open bottle in the lap and i’m wired on ‘ngac
i owe bookies out the -ss ask calvin and pat
they blowing up my phone but i never dial them back
i hit the liquor store dwelling like a loaded whirlwind
split for tour now they tell me we gon’ go to berlin
i got the rum up in the cup and the soda swirling
i’m a fat f-ck rubbing the promoter’s girlfriend
[verse five: jaysaun]
they call me red light jizzle when the s-m-n hits you
laser guided one puddle launch a p-n-s missile
you p-ssy, put the shoes on, i’ve seen ’em fit you
i’m in munich serving german hoes wienerschnitzel
turkish broads blowing c-ck like a tootsie pop
outside of the kabob spot
it takes like chicken, smells like beef but truly it’s red
half white, half black, what type of moolie is that?
jaysaun, head of my home wherever i roam
fifty euros for the f-ck and suck, but thirty for dome
[outro: big shug talking]
that’s what it is baby. 40 bars. special teamz, big shug mayne. we on the other side of the world smashing sh-t the f-ck up. y’all know what time it is. and don’t jump up on the motherf-cking stage cause you will get a headcrack. ya feel me? boston b-tches, hahaha
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