Feet Up On The Table
Title | Feet Up On The Table |
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Artist | Aceyalone |
Album | All Balls Don’t Bounce |
Release Date | 1995-10-24 |
Description | ? |
Lyrics | Hey dude, you want me to just start like four bars off in this shit (Yeah nigga, what you got dick on your mind or something? just do the shit) Aw nigga, fuck you Hey pussy, listen, you're hear a native get his ass whipping Pussy, you're rhyme keeps on slipping Go head and gets to trippin' Pussy, I slow your row with that tampon Your flow be menstrual Come up out that couch and plant my flag in your neighborhood You got cable, I'm leaving toenail clippings on the table Now I break lots of crews up Who cruise up like they got big nuts What I dig up gets Big ups and also blow some wigs up Get up for the beat down I'm taking your seat now Relaxing my feet up on the coffee table While I floss me labels fool I got what the fuck you need and more I'll kick in your door, dammit then slam it behind me You'll find me in the bedroom where your kids is at I tell 'em that their daddy's finna' die Then give 'em smacks and get some stacks And hit the sofa with a loaf Of bread and some chicken backs Feet up on the table and your woman in my lap [Ellay Khule] Blast off, lift off, wanna twist off the cap The love of my life is the rap The love of your life in my lap Leap if you're feeling lucky My speech play frog or Kermit You're walking that style with no leash Do you have a permit? Cut it out like some scissors Get rollin' like swisher sweets Drivin' a big blue up the streets Bumpin' helluva beats See your weak but me I gotta maintain my rep Wake up you slept Lucky to get slapped, I should have just broke your neck Got juice like in a dream, blow up like gasoline when it's lit You battle him and you battle them but I really don't give a shit You might also like[Sample] I'm scheming like a demon On the couch with my feet up [Aceyalone] Nigga who's you Nigga is you crazy Nigga you things to do yourself And i'm finna' help ya out By slapping your weed out ya mouth Pinching those jaws Nigga you can lick on these balls I walk into the room And all the men-a-pause Rappers pause When the mic is in my claws You wake up in the morning time With pudding in your draws Because i'm the first rapper with no flaws And we can draw straws Just to see who goes up in ya walls I really don't give a shit I admit it I'm a screw loose at chills'vill' I paid 1 of the bastards To hit you in the left leg with a louieville Broke your shit, never to figure skate my way again What? I'm short and skinny? nigga you tall and fat Now give me my pen back I served you once, I'll do it again Three-peat and again for pete's sakes When will it end? You're swollowing cement 'til you have no wind [Mark the Murderah] Looking at the incense smoke Inhaling the indica smoke I get stoned And then I grab the microphone and show my knuckle bone Nothing I see is real I'm walking right through it like fluid Forgave method You better drop your weapon or your film at eleven o' clock Bop bop through the high top Z My homie's on LSD fightin' LAPD Bail him out He's in the county in his PJs The fat j, I pass it to the DJ (Homicide... Homicide... Homicide) I rock the spot, but I ain't shot, knocks got Glocks So drop my voice box changing dirty socks Rainy weather makes me even better Summer to winter to spring fall I'm downin' the 8 ball Hittin' but the blunt But I never strike out of matches Like homies with batches of bitches that been ballin' Teeth marks on my hits 30-odd-6, when I'm in a fix It's 94, serve you with 92 Do what I gotta handle Gangsta that's ganking professional gangsta [Abstract Rude] I do what? I got my feet up on your Mama Mabel's Mother's mother's mother's three generation table You know the one, the one you can't put a drink down without a coaster Taking it out my holster Slam it on your momma's pride and joy Boy you gonna get a whippin' Shame my momma feel no drama You better not say 'Ab did it' Even if you did, kid, she'll say 'Why you let him in the house?' You'll say 'Momma, I wanted to hear what the rap was about I didn't know he would come in the house,put his feet up and take his gun out and run out Rappin', sayin' somethin about Mass Men' You don't have to tell anyone See you tommorow See you tommorow See you tommorow |