Falconry Songtext
von Action Bronson feat. Meyhem Lauren & Big Body Bes
Falconry Songtext
Yo pass me the ball fool
You better fuckin′ pick me, ya
Straight the fuck up, I roof this shit
Fuckin' 360 on this pussy
I don′t give a fuck
I'll kick this motherfucking ball over the fence
No shoes on
I know you see me on the TV, lookin' like a hunk of beef
When I smell your baby mama′s shit dungarees
Somebody get the kid a deal he sound like me
But nah, dunny don′t get down like me
The falcon flies back to the glove when I whistle
Don't try to put me in the box like a tissue
Cause I push you in the box with a pink suit
Fuck around and have some squid ink soup, bitch
(Ah man there′s so much fuckin' hash in this joint right now son)
Uh, you ain′t a legend like Gianni
I'm so Queens like a Roy Wilkins T-shirt
With one arm shredded, and one arm missing
Dog, I was born with a lost vision
I learned quick I couldn′t follow suit
Cause the Devil put the pork inside the dollar soup
Now I'm sittin' in first class with a hard dick
Listenin′ to German guitar riffs, what a life
I was made like the beginning of Jurassic Park
When they took the fucking bluff on the mosquito with a dope needle
Then they shot it in a wild lie in 1983
I popped out holdin′ an iron with a visor on
Yeah, uh huh
Yo, the videos are like a Jewish summer camp promo
Your ideas lack of dope, woah
Yo, silk cinder blocks, cinnamon socks
On the low like a whip without shocks
I bag bitches in flocks
Representative for everything official
Ya'll niggas can′t live, so it's officially an issue
Quarter proof penmanship, padded on a rugby
Hammerin′ the hamper 'case a nigga try to thug me
I′m a idol, my wave is tidal, forget survival
Treat the last record I broke just like a rival
Uh, I'm New York before it turned into a bike lane
Never had a light fame, split the pipe cane
It was written but I wrote it
Put religion right on my neck and then I froze it
Laurenovitch, yeah
3: 36 in the morning
Location: a drug infested area, Brooklyn, New York
What am I doing? Standing on an unidentified corner
With a Latin individual, corn rows, foam posits
All sorts of a felony in his waist
But who are you? She only loves me when I'm naked
You better fuckin′ pick me, ya
Straight the fuck up, I roof this shit
Fuckin' 360 on this pussy
I don′t give a fuck
I'll kick this motherfucking ball over the fence
No shoes on
I know you see me on the TV, lookin' like a hunk of beef
When I smell your baby mama′s shit dungarees
Somebody get the kid a deal he sound like me
But nah, dunny don′t get down like me
The falcon flies back to the glove when I whistle
Don't try to put me in the box like a tissue
Cause I push you in the box with a pink suit
Fuck around and have some squid ink soup, bitch
(Ah man there′s so much fuckin' hash in this joint right now son)
Uh, you ain′t a legend like Gianni
I'm so Queens like a Roy Wilkins T-shirt
With one arm shredded, and one arm missing
Dog, I was born with a lost vision
I learned quick I couldn′t follow suit
Cause the Devil put the pork inside the dollar soup
Now I'm sittin' in first class with a hard dick
Listenin′ to German guitar riffs, what a life
I was made like the beginning of Jurassic Park
When they took the fucking bluff on the mosquito with a dope needle
Then they shot it in a wild lie in 1983
I popped out holdin′ an iron with a visor on
Yeah, uh huh
Yo, the videos are like a Jewish summer camp promo
Your ideas lack of dope, woah
Yo, silk cinder blocks, cinnamon socks
On the low like a whip without shocks
I bag bitches in flocks
Representative for everything official
Ya'll niggas can′t live, so it's officially an issue
Quarter proof penmanship, padded on a rugby
Hammerin′ the hamper 'case a nigga try to thug me
I′m a idol, my wave is tidal, forget survival
Treat the last record I broke just like a rival
Uh, I'm New York before it turned into a bike lane
Never had a light fame, split the pipe cane
It was written but I wrote it
Put religion right on my neck and then I froze it
Laurenovitch, yeah
3: 36 in the morning
Location: a drug infested area, Brooklyn, New York
What am I doing? Standing on an unidentified corner
With a Latin individual, corn rows, foam posits
All sorts of a felony in his waist
But who are you? She only loves me when I'm naked
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Ariyan Arslani, B. Sadikay, John Wrencher Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
