Testi Soundtracks :: H

0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z1

Hackers - Good Grief (Urban Dance Squad)

My style is triple, quadruple, damage for mc's

I make 'em huff 'n puff like mufflers for meineke

Human exhaust, you wanna get lost ?

Rhymes plus exxon ride brains like alain prost

Mc clowns, I blaze towns

I dragwheel skulls, leave with speed 'n dust cloud

All you monkeys, donkeys, alternative junkies

I'm strictly t-rex, 'n my rap just crunch, see

The jive 'n babble, throw heavy scrabble

Sparkles plus the bubbles plus the flavor like snapple

All you socalled rebels heavy metal cattle

Some horses got force but I simply tame with saddle

Hunt a stunt like 'red october', ain't crossin' over

Oops ! scud scrub ? patriot makes pulver

The music hits, fierce as it is

Check the brothers in the crowd that 'hiss'

Good grief

Industry check to mac, and wanna know me

I kick against control untamed like wild pony

Stay lonely like tony, attract like coney island

My style man, don't need no master, flasher

Test a prankster gangster like a gatt much faster

Get the band aid, the kid front hard knock

I sport more techniques confidential than fort knox

Sort of tool - glock - automatic on the static

Synthetic - plastic ?- you stay ready with the cascet

I throw a style, now a freak wants to test it

It's crazy mega fab, makes your hottie cher

I crush mc jaws who oughtta be chandelier

And drop the ltter - on the quitter

The survival-rival gets stranger

Much fitter

Worldwide you get served like stinky cheese

More force than a sexual intercourse

So mc's please !

Brothers amaze - keep 'em all in a daze

With the wild funk blaze

Good grief

One time for your mind now, as I have to climb now

Step by step now, where your rap now

I kick the flavor like a wes craven

People under my stairs wanna steal like raven

Black with breaks wanna croak when spoken to

Some shitty nonsense beat, you gotta be jokin' too

The rhyme enforcer, rhythm corsair

Hit the core with force, well of course oh !

Don't give me that lip lip

Like he thought that he could

I frown on bullshit like my name's clint eastwood

You come with fronts, stunts 'n poses

I welcome you to my jungle

Like my name was guns 'n roses

I blast the sound, you check the sound

You gotz to be down, and be like charlie brown

Saying good grief
Questo sito web utilizza cookie di profilazione di terze parti per inviarti pubblicità e servizi in linea con le tue preferenze e per migliorare la tua esperienza. Se vuoi saperne di più o negare il consenso a tutti o ad alcuni cookie consulta la cookie policy. Chiudendo questo banner, scrollando la pagina o cliccando qualunque elemento sottostante acconsenti all'uso dei cookie.