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    Текст песни E 40 - Dump bust blast

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    Слова песни:
    Uh (Uh) Come on I I Boskeezy? I my my turn it up (burps)
    Hey Boskeezy? Hey that shit right there I (talk to me willpalations)
    that
    shit. That's ibeen? That shit smibeen that shit ibeen? That shit
    smibeen
    ooh (ooh)
    4:15 showcasing to the max
    Got my truckamajig free racing causing anxiety attacks
    Pitch black normal tint BOOM BAP!
    Fucked around and overheated my Zues amp
    500 oh the hoes fuck a ho
    These are the thing that, uh, you need to know
    Bust him open spin open the duct tape and the foil
    Eat the rest and get a pot and let 'em boil
    Bullet proof vest never confess keep a bucket full of acid
    1-800-888 zippers-on-tastic
    Clinetel, raise 'em high raise 'em low
    Out on bail everybody hit the floor
    Chorus:
    Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
    Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!)
    Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
    Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast
    Slurp slip, deep throat shit I'm outta sight
    I like to get my dick sucked in broad daylight
    Acting bad on the soil acting tough
    Break your ass down like 12-gauge Doyle bluff
    You know if, ooh, that's what they holler
    Snatch his boosty ass up by the collar
    Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under investigation we
    hot
    like jalapenos
    Man, how come niggas can't put their money together like Philipinos?
    I suppose, can you bring him back?
    He was one of them enemies that tried to participate in Swiss Cheezin'
    my
    clean ass Cadillac
    My Cadillac, My Pontiac I mean
    My under bucket hoopty parked on magazines
    Chorus: 2x
    Check it out (check it out)
    Third verse, let's begin lets be gone
    I done served more water than, uh, Avion
    Posted up like a thumbtack on the boulevard serving dead
    Yola, ice cream, Ben and Jerry (Jer)
    I've been doing somethings, cigars and pinky rings
    I'm a big screw up in this shit like E-40 and the Click
    Paper all up under my box spring matress choppers on top of the fridge
    Automatics in the kitchen cabinets man I kill a motherfucker over
    mathematics
    Haters gonna hate, but they don't count nigga hustle
    The dope game runs on two thing (what's that?) money and muscle
    Do some gotti, fourth of July your party
    Laid his "supposed to be so called hardest nigga in your town" ass
    down
    infront of everybody
    Chorus: (with three overdubbed tracks of random talking)
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