Funkmaster flex - Ill bomb
Overige artiesten: Big kap Funkmaster flex & big kap Ll cool j

Pimp shit, uh
Uh, pimp shit
Yeah, turn my shit up a little bit
My vocals, uh, uh
I hypnotize ya eyes and then you recognize
That the sparkles of my chrome shoes paralyze
Gettin' money like this, people want my vibe
Full of jealousy and pride, hate the way I ride
Sometimes ya speak, sometimes ya don't
Figure this nigga souped up, cause he couped up
Guaranteed to rip shit, soon as its louped up
Ya niggas slept, twenty girls panties wasn't wet
I'm a star, double the dick, the double are
Never score hard to leave the bubble scarred
Not the car, it's the man, daddy cool put it down
No comparin' me to y'all, nigga is such a clowns
L.A. worth paper, ask Russell Simmons who put 'em up in that skyscraper
Ask my dogs up at Fubu, who made them major
LL nigga, now who's next that need a favor
Drop a bomb on 'em
Remain calm on 'em
Peirce the nipples, throw the LL charm on 'em
Keep gangsta shit pumping through my system
When my strobe lights flash you can't miss' em

Call my name, ooh
Call my name,
Call my name, aw yeah
Call my name

59th street bridge up a roadway, do about a buck
Pumping Mobb up in the Cadillac truck, don't give a fuck
Gold tint, goldiggen broads getting bent
We can fuck, but you ain't getting 10 cent, Who want it?
Lay the facts out until the cats out
Set 'cha back out, sweat 'cha tracks out, blow out your weed
You wake up in the morning to a note, "Nigga had to leave."
Be easy, you should of teased me, instead of being sleazy
I wouldn't do a threezy, come across more floss than gold teeth
I learned you can't eat, if ya hold beef, with niggas underneath
Still I'm a lyrically hold it down
L back in town, 'case the bell sound for second round
Some of these old cats is funny, fuck who's legendary
I'm trying to get this money
Drop a bomb on 'em, and pour a dom on 'em
As soon as the track come on, I transform on 'em
Keep gangsta shit pumping through my system
Strobe lights flashing can't miss' em


Rappers don't really want it, they might claim they do
They know I'm catching bodies, go 'head name a few
After I blaze you, I get a doughnut
Don't want no blood up on my chrome shoes
Lord have mercy, this rookies got it confused
You thought you caught me slipping, I was falsely accused
Sleeping with my eyes wide shut, like Tom Cruise
They wishing an impossible mission to see me lose
Lay up time to choose, all I hate is on the left
You hoping and praying you get to hear me take my last breath
Lyrically, but I gang bang the track, chop sling like Cracker
Hundred keys a month, you fucking up G backs nigga
Invincible, unstoppable y'all niggas ain't ill your illogical
This is L, the pigeon thriller, dream fulfiller
A little something for ya ice guerrillas
Drop a bomb on 'em
When its time to attack Quiet Storm on 'em
Hold ya nuts and keep ya palms on 'em
Keep gangsta shit pumping through my system
When my strobe lights flash you can't miss' em


Writers: JAMES SMITH , Herb Magidson , GEORGE SPIVEY , W. RUBEL

Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music , Inc. , MUSIC SALES CORPORATION

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind