Letras:
Punch Brothers Don T Need No

a sheepskin kid I was sick to my stomach nigga this is real shit I ain't the sensitive type, I ain't sit around crying I caught the bitch on the avenue and punched

don't help, they don't care ginsu swingin everywhere Slice 'em up, Slice 'em down side to side and all around They don't help, the don't care ginsu swingin

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook Oh Ah, Oh Ah, Oh Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook Oh Ah, Oh Ah, Oh Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

enemies never pretend to be rude I don't even have to poke out my chest We up in the rep, the story is told but baby you don't know the half Places I

ain't right, if my wife don't write My niggaz cant eat if the fish don't bite My raise the gross sales, like Mike and Ike Now big brother almighty I keep

keep synthin', they wanna be USHER, Until they get their eyes and coffin closed by the USHER, Their punches wont work, you need more MUSTARD, Lord lay 'em down, he need

brother Tried to rob a man who was a duty undercover The cop grabbed his arm, he started acting erratic He said "Look kid, no need for static" Punched

classic(x2) Killer Mike nigga! (Hook)(x2) Don't you be looking at me crazy like ya want to The game is over k.b. baby won't you Just quit the contemplating

Home we gon' blow crazy oz., son (don't stress) When You Come Home we gon' fuck mad ho's, son (don't stress) When You Come Home I'ma put you on ya toes