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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
MC Chris

DQ Blizzard

 

DQ Blizzard

(album: Apple Tummy - 2009)


Your rapper, he's wack dude, but does he even try?
Can he do what mine do? think you should say buh-bye.

Get up on the mic like a five on a fifty.
Quickly avoid the hickeys from the bucktoothed bitties.
Fake Timberlake just to be by Britney.
Smoke that pipe with Whitney, shoot that blow with Iggy.
L.I.B, N.Y.C. and all places in between,
you could call me a mint cuz I make the green.
I make the scene, I make believe that you all was naked,
so I wouldn't have to fake it, just copy and paste it,
like Adobe Photoshop, Red Foreman in robocop,
I get up on the mic and you know I won't fuckin stop.
It's like the props of Carrot Top, or yellow stains in my socks.
You acting like you hip? You all hepped up on hops!
Yo let's do the body rock, cuz the beat just be so bumpin,
let's get our groove on before our carriage is a pumpkin,
before they outlaw fuckin, not bad for a drunken munchkin.
my name is MC Chris welcome to my lyric luncheon.
Word up, word up, word up, word up and you know, oo-ow-oo-ow-oo-owowowow.

[CHORUS]
Name's MC, my band's the Lee Majors
put us on the bill, and boy ya hit paydirt.
When I'm on the mic, the girlies wanna flizzirt
but I tell 'em chill like a DQ Blizzard help me,
like a DQ Blizzard, D, D, Q Blizzard, help me
like a DQ Blizzard, D, D, Q Blizzard.

Half corn beef and cabbage, half Fred Savage.
the better than average rapper with the have to have it habit.
heir apparents on my carrot like they was Jessica rabbit,
like fake wood paneling on the side of station wagons.
fraggle rock on the box, fruit loops on my chin,
wonderin if I'm ever really gonna fit in,
or be a son of a bitch with a gut and some tits
or a roaming casanova with my dick in a (censored)
I'll be back in a bit, I gotta floss my johnson,
make that cream for the state Wisconsin.
you say all of my shit is complete nonsense,
fuck my cd and the shitty ass contents.
Bullshit, my shit's the bomb.
Siamese twins want manage a trois.
Robot bitches want their backs massaged.
They may not be real but them tits is large.

(damn) word up, word up, word up, word up and you know.

[CHORUS]

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?