Stu Bangas - Ruck N Roll lyrics

"Good night Idaho! You were great, we love you!" "This last song, is for you!" [Rock] (Sean Price) It's Da Incredible amazing Unbelievable, yet mad basic, you caught in a matrix (David Blaine, Criss Angel the Mindfreak I wave and bang, ya sh** dangle, the mind leak And ain't a thing for the gang to bang heaters I keep my hands clean, b**h, call me the gang leader) sh** you can call me commander in chief, when chiefing that damn reefer And have me thinking in another language I can't teach ya Writing rhymes when I'm around of ya mans sneakers Have you appauled, saying it's ya ghost or ya damn preacher, but look (Lord have mercy, Jesus Price, P!) I'm Sephlo Dollar, he's just nice, huh! (Listen, Hallelujah, holla back Hollow points leave ya head just like that Sleepy Hollow cat I will Amadu, in armored Starter cap P, the ambiance of a homicidal maniac, P!) "Asia, Africa, Tokyo, we love you!" "Heltah Skeltah, baby, Ruck N f**ing Roll" [Rock] (Sean Price) There's a method to this madness First of all I'm anti wack sh** Second to flow, gon' do backflips, acrobatics Roller coaster flow, rope-a-dope you hoes Punchlines either open up or broke ya f**ing nose (Cosa Nostra flow, toasted from the shoulder holster blow, BONG! Wet 'em dead a head a n***a let them n***as know) I 'poke a nose' wit a icepick, f** the 'Resort' Resort to violence, and not them little f**ing guitars (f**ing with R) R-O (U, C) C (K) K, to ya face (Insert the clip, pop and pray This is not hip hop hooray This is push rocks a block away from the spot, cuz it's hot, ok? Listen, Sean Price move belittle your squad Like Omar, worse than Little Canard, muthaf**a) Huh, I ain't no Jim Carrey Ridder, dog But I carry a gem star, I will give it to ya Split 'em in four, s**as "Denmark, Amsterdarm, Oslo, we love you!" "You f**ing guys, rock, man, Ruck N f**ing Roll" "You were awesome, you guys have a great night" [Rock] (Sean Price) Psycho, but like no, b**h a** n***as Talking bout they such and such, but when I see 'em in the streets, what? (You cannot rhyme, rhyme, you should not rhyme, rhyme Your squad wack, contracts you should not sign Curtis Jack' got clapped about nine times Murdered cats wit a gat, you got nine lives I got nine knives, I got ten macks Mack 10's, clap them, where ya friends at?) Hold on, if I said ya name, it's probably not an attack Probably not, but it's probably a fact, probably You probably wack, probably crack, probably is that yo sh** Rhyme wit raps, plus I can do that Die to you f*gs, now you say that I'm gay bashing Ain't talking to them, I'm talking to you, when I scream f*ggots You lame a**es, gon' hate and bring glad to this In more ways than one, ain't that a b**h? "Good night folks, it was great rocking with you guys" "See Note and Frunkberg in the back of the merch table" "We have T-Shirts, CDs, DVDs, distilled hot dog water, good night folks!"