Cuban Link - Up In Smoke lyrics
rate me
Yo,.lyrical murda on wax, what!? Still gettin high, puffin' that la, Yeah, Terror Squad, Blunt Records, Check this shit out, Cuban Link.. wha.. Yo, i'm up in smoke, Puffin' cho-co-la-te, ta-te queto I rock my flow, and knock it out just like Jose Canseco So take off like Delta, run for shelta Theres no helper here, you felt of it L be servin niggas like Mr. Belvadere I twist an L, sip a beer here and there Drink some liquor then pick a stripper that I can rip and tear, yeah Come hear the sounds of a rookie fromt he boogie down Used to be a shorty but guess whos givin nukkies now So clown if you got the heart Start some bullshit, it's your bid A bullet through your skull from my full clip I pull triggas givin niggas hell, like I'm sittin, Fake a move, punk, and i'll run you over like Walter Payton Makin hits, my cliques, makin moola Like Don Shula, nothin's coola Than puffin on a phat blunt from Cu-ba I smoke more blunts than a little bit, What are you an idiot? The more I smoke, The smaller my phillie get I smoke more blunts than a little bit, What are you an idiot? Wake up in the mornin, got me yearnin for herb! Start the buddah session, True confessions, spark the cu' up, Cu' be where the supa-fly's, buddahfied, Even in a suit n tie, Cruisin though the 5 boroughs wit live thorough, Niggas that like to smoke they Hydro in front of 5-0, Yo Manolo shoot that piece of chit, Chichi get the yayo, While I pay Frank a visit, but the bisquit to his cuello, Ey yo, this fuckin blunt's got me buggin, I be thuggin it out, like Noreaga playin, You aint sayin nothing, bustin rappers like adreneline, Puttin venom in'em, Put'em on stage, for minimum wage, to graves is where i send'em Hem'em up like a party dress Terror Squad is as hard as it gets Rippin your heart out your chest Spark the cess, chickenheads stressin the sex Wanna jump up in the Lex, twin, when they see me wit the best Twisted up the dutch, a little Tony's Touch Let'em work the clutch while i lite the bliz up On a highway wit this big fucka Gettin high like Chris Tucker on Friday, hit it my way Like Frank Sinatra, lite up at the opera When the cops come show the prescription from the docta I puff cause I got ta' This stuff from the rasta's Get enough love in the Bronx, from Italians wit all the pasta John Blazin, keep the tree's blazin You think a lil weed gonna fuck with my cordination?? Wha wha.. Haha.. yeah.. Blunted for life.. Blunt Records, Triple Seis, Punisher, Fat Ji-Doe, Don Cartigina, Fulla-clips, wha what, Cuban Link'in it, Artie's,.. yeah, Wha wha.. real niggas.. Blunted. Yea nigga.. this how we do
