
Da Ill Out Redman (Ft. Jamal & Keith Murray)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Da Ill Out" от Redman (Ft. Jamal & Keith Murray). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Intro: Erick Sermon]
Yo Reggie, uh
D-E-F Squad
Muddy Waters
Don't get it twisted, nigga
[Verse 1: Redman]
Ayo, everybody in this motherfucker will get touched
Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs
Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques
I beez that, Freak of the Week like I made Knee Deep
Hold up! Rotate around the solar, Madder than Cobra
Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers
I'm sautéein' MC's with fried rice up in the wok
Without the MSG and chopped celery
See, I made it, my flavor situated
From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated
Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers
Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases
Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin
Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye
When his father shot him in the chest
I roll with two stacks of TECs
And mad niggas in sets that'll roll up in your rest, UHH!
Mister Fantastic's crafted off that 50 sack of ass kick
When I'm blasted, my mathematics get drastic
That you can't see with bifocals
Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers
I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk
That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vanderbilt
I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it
Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket"
Yo Reggie, uh
D-E-F Squad
Muddy Waters
Don't get it twisted, nigga
[Verse 1: Redman]
Ayo, everybody in this motherfucker will get touched
Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs
Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques
I beez that, Freak of the Week like I made Knee Deep
Hold up! Rotate around the solar, Madder than Cobra
Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers
I'm sautéein' MC's with fried rice up in the wok
Without the MSG and chopped celery
See, I made it, my flavor situated
From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated
Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers
Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases
Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin
Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye
When his father shot him in the chest
I roll with two stacks of TECs
And mad niggas in sets that'll roll up in your rest, UHH!
Mister Fantastic's crafted off that 50 sack of ass kick
When I'm blasted, my mathematics get drastic
That you can't see with bifocals
Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers
I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk
That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vanderbilt
I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it
Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket"
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