Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Nicki's Clit Ring official lyrics


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(verse 1)
Sometimes, I be crying in my dreams. Often, I'm dying in these scenes. I ain't even got no dye (die) in my jeans (genes). They dress pants. And hopefully, I'm teaching these lessons to these crying little teams. Vying for a dream. I don't even know why. Am I as clean as I seem to be? And I'm on the floor because YouMightCatchMeBored like YMCMB. Pay me for the fact I be rappin' from the top. Accident or not, I happen to be hot. SO, "I'll shine, you shine." Like Kendrick. I'll "line" it, I'll find it defenseless, then I'll line it up with a razor. I'm shining, and quite as tough as a lazer on a fuckin' .9 from a cop. 9 shots, and I might end up someone who's dying on top. Nigga.

(hook)
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
Now everybody sayin...
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
Now who shot ya?!

(verse 2)
Yeah, I'm talkin' "dead". Yeah, I'm talking "revenge". Yeah, I'm talking motherfucker, now go sit on the bench. Yeah, I'm talkin Pat Riley when I rap. You find me to be defiling me. Now, what a fact?! You see, I take that 66 to that 66. Then I take one out. Then I get my shit. And I rap about this business shit. Then I end up wrapping this business shit. Now *who* is sicker than me? Niggas gotta be sick of me. But lyrically, they can't visit me. Therefore, I get in between these lines. Like, Hi. And then I find it to be... quite fly. Because I bit it and they bit the minus signs that I find to be on the treble and bass. I'm steppin' away because as I be messin up my face, OH MY GOD! I'M GOING TO HEAVEN TODAY! HALLELUJAH! Sendin' flowers to you when I send that click-clack power to you. And these niggas is like "Sour? For YOU?! I don't know why! 'Cause you cannot get high! You are Domino fly. I knock you down. Domino Rally. Y. Hi!"

(hook)
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK!
ClickClick.
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
Now everybody sayin...
CLICK! CLICK! BOOM!
Now who shot ya?!


(verse 3)
I'm not talking business. This is S E G A. I'm talkin' George Massa. I raped him the other day. The brother way. Probably the lover way. I love to say how much I love J(ay)... and Dilla. But they the same thing, so hey! Maybe a villa when I get a couple million. But I love to fuck my chick when she's hovering above the ceiling. She's NEVER ABOVE IT! She's only on the fucking bed. And, hey! THAT is the subject. I really want some fuckin' head. I'm going ahead of time like them two white niggas in the DeLorean. But then again, I'm on the floor again. And I'm bored again. Looking at the floor, bored. Then looking at the scoreboard. Hittin 3s from outside the park like that Bird nigga. Word, nigga! Look, nigga! I sound so obsurd nigga. That's that shit I don't like. Sounding like some floor nigga. God damn. How many times can I say "floor" when I meant "flower". But then again, you must acknowledge the power of CHARLES HAMILTON.

Let's go.
















Shots at EVERYBODY.
ESPECIALLY YOU TWO.
Y'ALL KNOW WHO Y'ALL ARE, SO NO NEED TO SPECULATE.
I DON'T/DIDN'T WANNA TAKE IT PAST MUSIC, BUT Y'ALL STARTED WITH ME, SO HERE IT IS/THERE IT WAS.

From 2013.

















~follow the buzzards~

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