There's a brand new gig And it's called the wig It's not for your head, it's not the jig Loosen up your pants and freak to the beat Take a slug of you
rip Wig Out!! - exit Nobody cares if you wanna flip If everyone stares there just jealous If yer home alone put your pajamas on turn the music up and let the neighbors wig
Tradução: EE.UU. Bombas. Peluca.
it rip Wig Out!! - exit Nobody cares if you wanna flip If everyone stares there just jealous If yer home alone put your pajamas on turn the music up and let the neighbors wig
u in half and eat ya up Like any given friday I roll up to ya drive way rock u in tha face have u lookin sideways So step back cause u ain't want it with
is here forever, motherfucker It's like this ninety-seven Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes Let's do it like this I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine Let's
bombs from the arm like Galvatron [Verse Two: U-God] United Nations, gun fire style patient Formulatin rap plural acapella occupation Conquer land like Napoleon, military bomb
here forever - motherfuckers It's like this ninety-seven Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes Let's do it like this I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine Let's
I walk like egyptians around your pyramids Here's a kid, that spits raw lyrics and splits your wig Transform my right arm to hydrogen bombs For my niggas
'm Staten Island's best son fuck what you heard Niggaz still talkin that shit is absurd My repotoire is U.S.S.R. P.L.O. style got blown out the car And
ya drive way rock u in tha face have u lookin sideways so step back cause u aint want it with Mac tha young cat with rap to leave u flat on ur back
pack a pump When I'm tryin' to stay thuggin it In the way, playa haters see me, get a grudge What's on they mind? Nigga, that's sluggin' it Got a feelin
fist when TNT's pissed Droppin' bombs on your crews, I quicked the life refused Ya played the game of death and you're guaranteed to lose Play your cards right, tonight's
's best son fuck what you heard Niggaz still talkin that shit is absurd My repotoire, is U.S.S.R. P.L.O. style got thrown out the car and ran over, by
bitch, where's he at? 'Cause I got me a gat And I'ma show him how a true G's supposed to act with a strap There's somethin' bout bein a Dogg Pound Gangsta
Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfucker It's like this ninety-seven Aight my niggaz and niggarettes Let's do it like this I'ma rub your ass in moonshine Let's
