About This Track
"Funky Cowboy Meets the Funky Drummer" is a track by Blu, from the album UCLA, released 18th February 2012. Full lyrics are available below.
About the Artist
Lyrics
[Verse I] I run my shit up at the clean hand shops off of Slauson Flossing like my other than it reign supreme Crown fitted, why would they think I wouldn't when I'm in it like John Wooden with the cushion with the lean 'bout One eighty, 'bout it like I bop a nigga bobble like, Bobby Knight Mac Dowel type, ugh, you Donald, it's duck season I'm hollow and buck often and - fallen off, I - often Caught him in deep thought tonguing down a gold tooth Old spice with the Pro Tool vocals The old school with the home phone The old post kept the hoes loose [Chorus] Now I run my shit up on the world I run my shit up on the world, world, world I run my shit up on the world I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world [Verse II] I run shit up at the clean hand shops off of Slauson Flossing like my other than it reign supreme And still boss Why would they think I wasn't if I wasn't, fuck it Still buzzing tilt Douglas on the sauce, it cost One fifty to floss in one city for me 'Cause when you folks it's a different fee I'm either seen with the clappers Or children of Black Panthers, the queens The Pink Panthers, black bitches on the scene, I mean I never asked if you thought I was a wild boy Sick with it, let my style poise, ugh And niggas had to get up out of Illinois Since Sider was Chi boy [Chorus] Now I run my shit up on the world I run my shit up on the world, world, world I run my shit up on the world I run my shit up on the, ugh, on the world [Verse III] Ayo my money long, buddy long, but he slim, uh, yeah The ghetto's right under that butter leather, but it's him Once again, slim with the grin, tilted brim, spinning hubcaps Ugh, fuck that, shitty bus paths I crack a flask on that ass off a BMX, yup Thin ass tires, letting my chains flare, yeah Gold bitch it's always go, play the welfare Chill chick I'm on a cell phone, cool kid, I'm on a bike bitch Swoop a nigga for a have to kruga nigga, shit is dead Bitches fled from the verse they rather give him head 83, black and soul pass electro gold My shit shine, bitches it's always go Fuck a shiny suit, still giving shiners Don't blind 'em, closelining The whole city behind him, aye
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