The Doppelgangaz - Beak Wet lyrics
[The Doppelgangaz - Beak Wet lyrics]
A Ganga Known to be a
Swinger to your pale spouse
Eating 20 Zingers at a Miller’s Alehouse yea
Negotiate the right amounts and now
All the Sage butter got the
Braised quail doused agh
Bottom heavy girl Tennessee
Shorty always shaking something
Never tremor free
Top heavy shorty still attending Emory
I told her thanks for the
Mammaries I mean the memories
A set of g's by her own admission
Listen, A Ganga moving of his own volition
I'm talking free range not the cage shit
Playing street fighter made a nigga rage quit
Shit we heavy on the sushi
Or in the shack watching blues brothers
Rest in peace John Belushi
Yeah, and I don't need Louis Vuitton or Gucci
Just trying to get my beak wet, Don Fanucci
Your nephews are pieces of shit and
All your nieces are hit too egregious
Hit them with the cease and desist
See a Ganga shoes talk
Peep the crease in his kicks
Sex drive decreases, now she greases her slit
It, shit must mean I
Be pinching the mushroom tip to Justine Skye
Made a crostini out of rye
She only want to see me on the side, why?
Copped the whole hog from Rodney Scott
Touch the burnt ends
Even friends get mollywhopped
Your body rock
Bugatti straight out the body shop
You’re fake cloaked out
You don’t embody Dopp
Stop, hit next, they never heard of it
A Ganga vexed
About to suplex my sex surrogate
One armed tourniquet in the vip, whip
Swerving it hard to determine wit of a
Dip shit slurring it
Swinger to your pale spouse
Eating 20 Zingers at a Miller’s Alehouse yea
Negotiate the right amounts and now
All the Sage butter got the
Braised quail doused agh
Bottom heavy girl Tennessee
Shorty always shaking something
Never tremor free
Top heavy shorty still attending Emory
I told her thanks for the
Mammaries I mean the memories
A set of g's by her own admission
Listen, A Ganga moving of his own volition
I'm talking free range not the cage shit
Playing street fighter made a nigga rage quit
Shit we heavy on the sushi
Or in the shack watching blues brothers
Rest in peace John Belushi
Yeah, and I don't need Louis Vuitton or Gucci
Just trying to get my beak wet, Don Fanucci
Your nephews are pieces of shit and
All your nieces are hit too egregious
Hit them with the cease and desist
See a Ganga shoes talk
Peep the crease in his kicks
Sex drive decreases, now she greases her slit
It, shit must mean I
Be pinching the mushroom tip to Justine Skye
Made a crostini out of rye
She only want to see me on the side, why?
Copped the whole hog from Rodney Scott
Touch the burnt ends
Even friends get mollywhopped
Your body rock
Bugatti straight out the body shop
You’re fake cloaked out
You don’t embody Dopp
Stop, hit next, they never heard of it
A Ganga vexed
About to suplex my sex surrogate
One armed tourniquet in the vip, whip
Swerving it hard to determine wit of a
Dip shit slurring it