Blu - Funky Cowboy Meets the Funky Drummer lyrics
[Blu - Funky Cowboy Meets the Funky Drummer lyrics]
I run my shit up at the
Clean hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
Crown fitted
Why would they think I wouldn't
When I'm in it like
John Wooden with the cushion
With the lean 'bout
One eighty, 'bout it like I
Bop a nigga bobble like, bobby Knight
Mac Dowel type, ugh, you Donald
It's duck season
I'm hollow and buck often and - fallen off
I - often
Caught him in deep thought tonguing
Down a gold tooth
Old spice with the Pro Tool vocals
The old school with the home phone
The old post kept the hoes loose
Now I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the world, world, world
I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world
I run shit up at the clean
Hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
And still boss
Why would they think I wasn't if I wasn't
Fuck it
Still buzzing tilt Douglas on the sauce
It cost
One fifty to floss in one city for me
'Cause when you folks it's a different fee
I'm either seen with the clappers
Or children of Black Panthers, the queens
The Pink Panthers, black bitches
On the scene, i mean
I never asked if you thought I was a wild boy
Sick with it, let my style poise, ugh
And niggas had to get up out of Illinois
Since Sider was Chi boy
Now I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the world, world, world
I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world
Ayo my money long, buddy long
But he slim, uh, yeah
The ghetto's right under that butter leather
But, it's him
Once again, slim with the grin, tilted brim
Spinning hubcaps
Ugh, fuck that, shitty bus paths
I crack a flask on that ass off a BMX, yup
Thin ass tires, letting my chains flare, yeah
Gold bitch it's always go, play the welfare
Chill chick I'm on a cell phone, cool kid
I'm on a bike bitch
Swoop a nigga for a have to kruga nigga
Shit is dead
Bitches fled from the verse they
Rather give him head
83, black and soul pass electro gold
My shit shine, bitches it's always go
Fuck a shiny suit, still giving shiners
Don't blind 'em, closelining
The whole city behind him, aye
Clean hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
Crown fitted
Why would they think I wouldn't
When I'm in it like
John Wooden with the cushion
With the lean 'bout
One eighty, 'bout it like I
Bop a nigga bobble like, bobby Knight
Mac Dowel type, ugh, you Donald
It's duck season
I'm hollow and buck often and - fallen off
I - often
Caught him in deep thought tonguing
Down a gold tooth
Old spice with the Pro Tool vocals
The old school with the home phone
The old post kept the hoes loose
Now I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the world, world, world
I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world
I run shit up at the clean
Hand shops off of Slauson
Flossing like my other than it reign supreme
And still boss
Why would they think I wasn't if I wasn't
Fuck it
Still buzzing tilt Douglas on the sauce
It cost
One fifty to floss in one city for me
'Cause when you folks it's a different fee
I'm either seen with the clappers
Or children of Black Panthers, the queens
The Pink Panthers, black bitches
On the scene, i mean
I never asked if you thought I was a wild boy
Sick with it, let my style poise, ugh
And niggas had to get up out of Illinois
Since Sider was Chi boy
Now I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the world, world, world
I run my shit up on the world
I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world
Ayo my money long, buddy long
But he slim, uh, yeah
The ghetto's right under that butter leather
But, it's him
Once again, slim with the grin, tilted brim
Spinning hubcaps
Ugh, fuck that, shitty bus paths
I crack a flask on that ass off a BMX, yup
Thin ass tires, letting my chains flare, yeah
Gold bitch it's always go, play the welfare
Chill chick I'm on a cell phone, cool kid
I'm on a bike bitch
Swoop a nigga for a have to kruga nigga
Shit is dead
Bitches fled from the verse they
Rather give him head
83, black and soul pass electro gold
My shit shine, bitches it's always go
Fuck a shiny suit, still giving shiners
Don't blind 'em, closelining
The whole city behind him, aye