Action Bronson - Imported Goods lyrics

rate me

Orlando Magic warm-up suits and black Shaqs

'95: younger Bronson on the fast track

To blast gat, now I'm looking past that

I want the cash stack higher than the NASDAQ

I put the work in, the downtime I'm cooking lamb

A thousand Dutches in the air like it's a reefer jam

Aretha Jan you better R-E-S-P-E-C-T me

Or risk the forest where the motherfucking resutine be

Peking duck, and large liver, goose carver

Swiss Bally's, smoke cigar just like a new father

You know the motto, jacket to the knee

I can't help if I'm a fiend, I had to tap into the beat, Lord

Spark a seance, cause everybody lifted

I'm like the strainer with the fucking powder being sifted up

This is Queens Day, alleys where the fiends play

You cuffed against all the construction, take it easy

[Hook]

This for my people making sales until they back hurt

See the beast on the creep, they let the Mac squirt

Bitch on the backs, that do the dippies on the bikes, and

Loud pipes and rocking leathers like a wild Viking

My man who just came home, and some are going up

Fiends up in the alley, sippin Balley fucking throwing up

Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize

Always diving into thighs, blowing smoke into the skies

[Verse 2]

Bronsonelli the problem, we got the party reeking

Never see us starving, all my people hardly speaking

When it's time, though, we form into a single file

Spray the fucking ballcourt without hitting a single child

Hop in the Beamer, Pigeon popping the nina

Getting top in a steamer, scoping rock in a Tina

Hooker, that type of looker eat the pussy from the back

Take the children to the school, baking cookies, serving packs all day

Know the verbal, is Oscar-winning

You cop a squat to piss in, only focused on them rocks that glisten

Suppositories in the ass of you, the green Fila with a Horsey how this motherfucking bastard do

Bet the crib that you ain't fucking with this grown man

I'll E. Honda a thousand, slap you with the whole hand

Sex a dime, herbally, a blessed time

Check the rhyme motherfucker, better recognize

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

The eyes slanted from the origami, I roll a quarter of the water

Near the border, where you oughta find me

The Tamborine Man pumping while the Tyson burning

Air Tech Challenge, clay court, checks balance

Stay endorsing that weak shit, my team spit

That mean shit, like stepping in some fiend's shit

Now you sick to your stomach because you stunted

Word got fronted, another motherfucking jerk confronted

Post pattern, Lonnie threw the loaf at 'em

Flushing, motherfucker, keep a toast up by the gold Saturn

Little doulas on the block we tell 'em "go stab 'em"

Relieving mother's shoes is easier than toe taggin'

Carhartt sets and Horseys like the Preakness

Bronson love a freak bitch, dining on that Greek dish

That's the a-hole, all my people AWOL

Cash inside the case and now the judges want to play ball

[Hook]