Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Suono


Interfaccia


Livello di difficoltà


Accento



linguaggio dell'interfaccia

it

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Gestione dei Cookie   |   Supporto   |   FAQ
1
registrati/accedi
Lyrkit

donare

5$

Lyrkit

donare

10$

Lyrkit

donare

20$

Lyrkit

E/o supportarmi sui social. reti:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
E-40

More Bass, More Treble

 

More Bass, More Treble

(album: Revenue Retrievin': Night Shift - 2010)


[Hook]
More bass more treble more volume tune the light [x3]
More bass more treble more (ba-ba-ba-ba-bass)
More bass more treble more volume tune the light
More bass more treble more volume tune the light [x2]

[Verse 1: Cousin Fik]
This shit jamming, come through slamming
Look up in my head and you'll prolly see a cannon
Last man standing if niggas get the blasting
California bear and you looking like salmon
Cooler than the Phantom with us there's no fam-ous
Truly on the wasted with us they're no shaming
Pump Jackie Chan and trunk Van Dam and
Hating on the family you slumped in the fam
And my hoes pop on handstands, weed it like the sandman
Put'cha ass to sleep rollin sweets by the grand fam
My nigga so high he prolly never ever land
And if he did he prolly end up somewhere in Japan
With lean in my socky I'm Rockley and teriyaki
She wanna sucky sucky got her hands in my jocky (my draws)
Like my nigga Ed, I'm a go Hardy
You know what I needs when I turns out the party

[Hook]

[Verse 2: E-40]
Uhh, through the soil just got my whip fixed
Trunk sounding like Chewbacca try'na get up out that bitch
Stash rocks for a fit, with the ness-naked chick best believe
I'm talking on my Sidekick she rolling up her weave
I don't live in this world no mo, I live in the sky
You wanna know why, cause I be high as flying soarer fuel
And I don't hang around niggas that ain't cool
I'm talking about to the point where you don't shallow don't wanna hang around you
Uhh, nice guys finish last and stay broke
Bad guys finish first and push dope
I'm a money motivator not a playa hata
Brought my Chevy from a fiend not the auto trainer
Around and bumped into a fella once po but now he got it made
Millionaire now but repeated the seventh grade
Uhh, you can tell by the way that this boss walking
I'm a Bay boy; I like to hear myself talking

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Turf Talk]
Haters on my line, show a nigga no love
Bang on my hip, poking out my soul clug
I like side belly, it's like I cold with it
I'm number 24 when it come to Sick Wid It
On my screen and eagle pipes hella loud
Got'cha bitch ass sitting on crocodile
Got my third eye, looking for the cop core
More bass, more bass, I'm a rockstar
Let the wolfs out, mini move mean
Knock, knock, bullets flying through your front screen
I'm still in it, any nigga could get it
Yet anybody is subjected to get the fucking bidness
Back to the doggings, throw em on the cobnut
Mo volume that a make the trunk jump
I rock gold teeth, but not Sutherlin
I got pink slips, no stuttering

[Hook]

Fatto

Hai aggiunto tutte le parole sconosciute di questa canzone?