CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Toxic
f**k
(Crazi)
Yeah
Hac*m matada
Devil wears the Prada
Feel like Biggie, Poppa talkin' who shot ya
Said you got a shotta
Boy, them boys gon' pop ya
Feel like Waka Flocka with that baby drama
sh*t got really hot, like some cooked lasagna
When I creep up on ya, f**k a b*t*h named Tanya
Got b*t*hes on top of b*t*hes, like McDonald's, I'm lovin' it
Whip out my d**k and she suck on it
She wanna ride on my pony, she jump on it
She a tramp, she get tramped, like a trampoline
Bang bro's this b*t*h, f**k the soccer mom team
It all started with a dollar and a f**kin' dream
Now I'm tryna get up on that magazine
Hand me a Magnum 'cause a n***a 'bout to f**k the game up
Catch a stone-cold stunna
Kick you in the chest, Sparta 3hunna
Freaky motherf**ker, feel like Thugger, Thugger
Give me one on one
Excuse me lil' ho', I'm bad when aiming c*m
Um, dumb, bum, slum, gum, run, Ricky run
I'm the chosen one, better get yo' gun
Line 'em up and then attack, boy, you better duck
'Cause we 'bout to make these motherf**kers quack
b*t*h, we bustin' shots, but they ain't bustin' back
Makin' all these raps, make a coupe stacks
I'm just spittin' facts, I ain't reach my max
I don't know the n***a, then he gettin' taxed
My n***a gettin' money, whippin' Cadillacs
We 'bout to royal rumble, one man jungle
They wanna see me fall, they wanna see me stumble
But I got the ball, I promise I won't fumble
I'm King Kong and this my f**kin' jungle
(Crazi)
Yeah
Hac*m matada
Devil wears the Prada
Feel like Biggie, Poppa talkin' who shot ya
Said you got a shotta
Boy, them boys gon' pop ya
Feel like Waka Flocka with that baby drama
sh*t got really hot, like some cooked lasagna
When I creep up on ya, f**k a b*t*h named Tanya
Got b*t*hes on top of b*t*hes, like McDonald's, I'm lovin' it
Whip out my d**k and she suck on it
She wanna ride on my pony, she jump on it
She a tramp, she get tramped, like a trampoline
Bang bro's this b*t*h, f**k the soccer mom team
It all started with a dollar and a f**kin' dream
Now I'm tryna get up on that magazine
Hand me a Magnum 'cause a n***a 'bout to f**k the game up
Catch a stone-cold stunna
Kick you in the chest, Sparta 3hunna
Freaky motherf**ker, feel like Thugger, Thugger
Give me one on one
Excuse me lil' ho', I'm bad when aiming c*m
Um, dumb, bum, slum, gum, run, Ricky run
I'm the chosen one, better get yo' gun
Line 'em up and then attack, boy, you better duck
'Cause we 'bout to make these motherf**kers quack
b*t*h, we bustin' shots, but they ain't bustin' back
Makin' all these raps, make a coupe stacks
I'm just spittin' facts, I ain't reach my max
I don't know the n***a, then he gettin' taxed
My n***a gettin' money, whippin' Cadillacs
We 'bout to royal rumble, one man jungle
They wanna see me fall, they wanna see me stumble
But I got the ball, I promise I won't fumble
I'm King Kong and this my f**kin' jungle
