MASTERS OF ILLUSION - East West Huslers lyrics

rate me

Yo whassup kid?

Yo every motherfuckin year I spend $70,000

for a fuckin picnic, 4th of July

You motherfuckers come and eat up my shit, now that's right

Bitches too, bring your own fuckin brown paper bag

Get out my fuckin yard

Nah na not this year, I'm not fuckin with motherfuckers

I'm stickin niggaz up, puttin 'em on the grill

Charcoalin motherfuckers

That's right

[Kool Keith]

I call up Motion, crank the pipes in the green Cutlass

Stankhead roll, super fly spinner on gold vogues

From here to Texas playin Master P, in the Lexus

Speakers and rearview, comin to, bangin through you

Strippers that wiggle wind up, out them short pants

And bitches can dance here's yo' yip baby suck my dick

That's on the Ampex reels, countin dollar bills

Don't smoke no bit that weed man smell like shit

[Motion Man]

I'm built for action, my hairy chest with gold chains

just smokes a fraction, and saves some for the brain

My ostrich headband, playin ball

Move upon the floor like I'm Allen, show my crossover now

Cadillac the fifth wheel, six hoes in the back

Keith packin the steel

Nigga how the fuck you comin out with this scalliwag?

She ain't ridin in my love

With that kitchen and that kinky purr, or belly rub

And take that other fat hoe with the blubber, I roll like Daytons

Very expensive for you ones on budgets, my name is Clifton

Capital C-lift off, giraffe jacket

Puma jeans, trout shoe, elk hat

Yo rub my back 'til my penis bulge out of my slacks

Be like a crook and stab you right up in your tuna and hug it

I got the bait, five Cadillacs deep in yo' state

Be like them vogue tires, gold trim, I fucked you you're fired

[Chorus: x4]

[K] East West hustlers

[M] We showin out

[K] Bronx to the Bay-ay-ay

[M] We showin out

[Motion Man]

You know how it is, I hear a noise and take my shit straight to the shop

Nigga FIX MY SHIT and run it by eight o'clock

Who she roll with, Clyde that down South Southern-ass drawer nigga

Yo tell him you with Clifton, and Lady Jones clockin these figures

You see we all connected

My leopard spot drawers got infected

I had a velvet condom, eagle socks, tyrannosaurus rex, turtlenecks

Niggaz sweatin in a drop-top Vette, but it ain't mine

[Kool Keith]

44 mag glove compartment and the plastic bag

I come real with shit, Bobby who you fuckin with?

You down South with the Klabman, close your fuckin mouth

I'm Lenny Jones, chewin steaks, y'all eatin chicken bones

4th of July them city boys come and start trouble

Uncle Harold lightin ass with the double barrels

Winchester sawed-off, blast a motherfucker's neck off

We blow yo' leg off, the shirts and yo' whole head off

We called the ambulance, paramedics in yo' progress

My cousin Ricky, with jheri curls through yo' vest

Double ocks catch crews out there in many spots

Big boy Uncle Pete, down South hustler

Go help Aunt Reese, you motherfuckers bring the mustard

Chicken salad, don't fuck with grandma layin on the palette

Y'all take aim and rest, with liquor on yo' fuckin breath

[Chorus]

[K] I put the garbage out, get your ass out the bedroom

[M] I tamed the monkey, squeezed the vocals up out the sparrow

[K] Usin your tactics, your little speakers sound plastic

Crossover samples, don't try to come, like you Rambo

Get in yo' ass again, you get the real blast again

[M] I leaned up on the curb and slid some beer for my folks

Took some tokes, Clifton, liftin

Suck my anal, the baldheaded kid unclog yo' shit like Drain-o

[K] East West hustlers

[M] We showin out

[Chorus]