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311 (band)( Three Eleven )
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Nutsymtom
Lyricist:Nicholas Lofton Hexum, Timothy Jerome Mahoney, Douglas Vincent Martinez, Chad Ronald Sexton, Aaron Charles Wills
The cold funk has you sunk feel the mids pump Blessed are those who erupt when we turn up Right now we corrupt, cons the shades we don in the neon night We're gonna feed on the mics and blast through a pipe I gotta feed on the mics and blast through a pipe
I gotta cool capability to toast and ill, yo my daddy told me 'Hey son, you must act chill', alien rough, my galaxy is tough Here comes the bang of a hip-hop thang that we bring and swing Men from mars ain't ever gonna hang with dope Buddha's
Come to the stage we are attackin', space assassin naked live And never slackin', come a day on the way enter on SA Amplified form another world far away, I got the pang of a gang And I come from the south side, here's the thang that I bring And I promise to come live
While the masses passes upon there fucking asses Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com And if you don't see get glasses that is a shot out To the words of curt grub, the motherfucker is not scrub I said, 'The man is the kind with the one that I call brine shrimp' We never ever do skimp I limp on a stage in a huff
Like magic dragon I puff on the stuff of a hum bolt cone Then I'm stoned watch out, smoke the weed that come from Northern California, don't do no cocaine that come from Columbia That the thing that mash up your nature, mash up your body And mash up your culture
Take a tip from the the flipped script of daddy Freddy I give complete props to the one that rocks steady With dexterity and goes on and on and on And turn out the dope shit like the one that's called Pawn shop press, yes, it's on, what's up?
P-Nut change it up, what's up with your mind, what's up
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